


The Bodyguard

by kesdax



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bodyguard AU, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-10-29
Packaged: 2018-02-11 03:23:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2051739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kesdax/pseuds/kesdax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sameen Shaw is a bodyguard for hire. Samantha Groves is a lonely housewife with a bounty on her head. But what Shaw thinks is going to be an easy job slowly becomes more complicated when her growing attraction to her client doesn’t appear to be disappearing anytime soon. That and a deep seated family conspiracy which soon comes to light sets off a chain of events that will forever change Shaw’s life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Even though they were halfway through spring, it was still freezing out and Shaw had to bundle up in more layers than she would have liked. But at least it had the added benefit of providing her with more places to conceal weapons, and for Sameen Shaw, that was always a bonus point. She counted an inventory of them in her head, noted which weapon would be of easiest access in certain scenarios. It was a habit she had gotten into and never really gotten out of when she started this job, more of a way to alleviate the boredom and pass the time than anything else.

Shaw made her way up 5th Avenue towards Lenox Hill, double checking the address on her phone that she had been sent that morning. She knew no more information than that, but she could guess what type of client it would be just by looking at her surroundings. Shaw hated this part of town. Even the damn sidewalks were pretentious, and she tried not to sneer as she turned down a side street.

The dusty and mud streaked van that she walked towards looked out of place in the expensive neighbourhood and, not for the first time, Shaw wondered if it had been left like that on purpose, just to make their presence known. Shaw knocked on the back door and waited a beat before opening it.

“You’re late,” Michael Cole said. He hadn’t even turned to look at her, just continued to set up his surveillance equipment. Shaw rolled her eyes at him. “Shut the door, it’s freezing,” he added.

Shaw did as he asked and sat on the one and only free chair in the van.

“What have we got?” she asked.

“Not sure,” said Cole. “But they own the entire top floor,” he added gesturing with his hand in, presumably, the direction of an apartment building.

Shaw peered past him at one of the monitors depicting, at the moment, nothing but static.

“What’s with our eyes and ears?” Shaw asked, nodding at the monitor.

Cole glanced at her briefly before turning back to fiddle with the wire in his hand. “Apparently the client is refusing to have camera’s set up.”

“Why?” Shaw asked with a frown. Setting up audio and visual surveillance, as well as a round the clock detail of five personal security officers, was their top package. And in this part of town, the clients _always_ went for the top package.

Cole shrugged. “But, uh… You Know Who is inside.”

“Seriously?” said Shaw, her brow creasing as she stared at Cole.

“Yep. Client requested the boss himself,” said Cole. “You’d better get up there.”

“Shit,” said Shaw under her breath.

Cole smirked. “At least he didn’t fire you,” he said reasonably. “Which, by the way… you never _did_ tell me how you managed to avoid that one.”

This time Shaw was the one that smirked.

“Because I’m still the best in the damn business,” she said brazenly and let herself out of the van.

“Yeah, well,” Cole called to her, “he’s still pissed at you. You screw up this time and he _will_ fire you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Shaw, brushing off his concerns and heading towards the apartment building that housed their new client.

Shaw sized up the security automatically as she walked in: doorman and security camera watching the front entrance, deadbolt lock on the door. The doorman waved her in when she told him who she was and Shaw headed up to the top floor.

She found her boss talking to the client when she walked into the apartment. His back was turned to her and Shaw took the opportunity to have a quick glance around. The apartment was huge (and pretentious, she thought disgustedly), with two floors and a living room that looked twice the size of her whole apartment put together. The client himself was dressed in an expensive suit and shoes. He was old fashionably handsome and that, coupled with his wealth, had probably set him up alright for life. He frowned at her when he caught a glimpse of her, bringing his conversation to an abrupt halt and the other man turned to face her.

“Ah, good,” said Shaw’s boss.

George Hersh stepped towards her and grabbed her by the elbow. “You’re late,” he hissed, but when he turned back around to face the client again he was all smiles. “This is Ms. Shaw,” said Hersh leading her towards the client. “She’s my best PSO.”

The client stared briefly at her for a moment, clearly not impressed. “The best?” he said sceptically. Shaw noted the British accent, and filed the information away for later in case it became important. “Her?” the client continued and Shaw tried her best not glare.

Hersh smiled warmly. “Oh yes. Shaw here has quite the extensive training. Former marine, little dip into intelligence support… and some medical experience,” Hersh added.

The client looked a little surprised at that. “Medical?”

“I told you,” said Hersh, “only the best.”

“Alright,” said the client eventually. “I suppose you’ll want to meet her.”

“Her?” said Shaw, glancing at Hersh.

“My wife,” said the client. He held up a finger apologetically as his phone began to ring. “Sorry, I have to take this,” he said and slipped out of the room.

“Wife?” said Shaw through gritted teeth.

“She’s the principal,” Hersh said and she thought she caught the hint of a smirk on his face.

“You’ve got me babysitting a housewife?” said Shaw, doing her best to keep her temper in check. “Is this a punishment?”

“No,” said Hersh gently, but she didn’t believe him. “The client wanted the best. And you’re still the best, despite your… mistake.”

Shaw snorted. Mistake wasn’t the word she would have used for it and she wondered if Hersh was ever going to let it go.

“So what are we dealing with here?” she asked, resigned to her fate and realising that if she pushed this, if she refused, Hersh would indeed get rid of her. “Stalker? Or…”

“Someone tried to kill her,” said Hersh.

Shaw raised her eyebrow in surprise. “Who?”

“Don’t know yet,” said Hersh. “But that isn’t your concern.” Shaw disagreed with that but didn’t argue the point.

Hersh handed her a folder with all the information about her new client that she _did_ need to know. Hersh made to leave but turned around before he reached the door.

“Stick to this one like glue,” he said. “Twenty-four seven.”

“How many other PSO’s we got?” Shaw asked, skimming through the folder in her hand but not really looking at it.

“Just you,” said Hersh.

“You’re kidding,” said Shaw in annoyance.

“Client’s request,” said Hersh, putting on his mock friendly voice that he always did when dealing with particularly fussy customers. “But if you’d rather I got Wilson in on this…”

“Fine,” said Shaw, sighing heavily. There was no way she’d let Wilson take a job from her. She’d never hear the end of it.

“And try to be polite,” said Hersh. “These people are paying us a lot of money.”

Shaw rolled her eyes. “I get it. Don’t piss off the rich people,” she said flatly.

“Oh, and one more thing,” said Hersh, halfway out the door and Shaw wondered if he would ever leave. Hersh looked at her, his expression turning serious. “Don’t shoot this one. No matter how tempted you are.”

Shaw clenched her jaw at that and watched him leave before making her way further into the house. She found the husband in a hallway, still talking into his phone and he gestured to a room down the other end of the hall. Shaw went where he directed and knocked softly on the door before letting herself in.

The sole occupant of the room was a woman, tall and with slightly curled chestnut hair. She had her back to Shaw, staring out the window. Shaw didn’t blame her. The view of Central Park from up here was pretty spectacular.

“Um, Mrs…” Shaw trailed off, realising that she didn’t know the client’s name and fumbled with the folder in her hand.

“Groves,” said the woman. “Samantha Groves. I kept my own name.”

“Oh, right” said Shaw and closed the file again. “Ms. Groves then. I’m Shaw.”

“What, no first name?” said Groves, glancing over her shoulder with a playful smirk on her face.

Shaw cleared her throat and didn’t respond.

The smile fell from Groves’ face and she turned to face the window again. “I didn’t ask for a bodyguard.”

“Personal security officer,” Shaw corrected.

Shaw could see Groves smirk from her reflection against the window. “Whatever,” she muttered.

Shaw frowned. “Someone tried to kill you,” she said as if Groves wasn’t well aware of that fact herself.

Groves laughed flippantly and Shaw wasn’t sure how to respond to that. She wondered if it was PTSD – and wouldn’t _that_ just make this job a whole lot messier.

“That doesn’t concern you?” Shaw asked.

Groves shrugged, turning from the window and stepping closer to Shaw, eyeing her up and down deliberately.

“You don’t seem like the kind of person who would be a bodyguard,” said Groves, changing the subject.

“Personal security officer,” Shaw said automatically. Then she paused, realising that she might have just been insulted and she glanced up at Groves with an affronted look. “What kind of person do I seem like?”

Groves shrugged. “Someone who likes to do something more… _fun_ ,” she said coyly taking a step closer, and Shaw wondered if she was imagining the implications in that one word.

“You don’t seem like the kind of woman who would be a housewife,” Shaw countered.

Groves smiled slightly in a way that Shaw found difficult to interpret, like it was trying to hide a secret in its dazzle of white teeth.

“And what kind of woman _do_ I seem like?” Groves asked and this time when she stepped forward, they were barely an inch apart. Groves’ eyes darted downwards ever so briefly and Shaw found herself licking her lips involuntary. She caught the smirk on Groves’ mouth and took a deliberate step backwards, reminding herself that this was a client, this was the _principal_ , and a married one at that.

“One who is going to get herself killed if she doesn’t do as I say,” said Shaw.

Groves smiled widely. “So, it’s going to be like that, huh? I _do_ love a woman who likes to take charge.”

Shaw swallowed thickly and opened her mouth to respond; with what she didn’t know, but luckily the husband walked in and she didn’t have to. It was like someone had slapped her to her senses though and she took a few more steps backwards, blending into the surroundings, just like any good security detail would do.

“Getting along?” the husband asked. His wife just stared at him stonily and he quickly cleared his throat and turned to Shaw. Shaw took note of it though, the way Groves seemed to stiffen up as soon as he walked in. And she remembered what Groves had said about not wanting a bodyguard, realised that the husband had probably hired their firm without her permission.

“There’s a room for you down the hall if you’d like to get settled in,” said the husband. Shaw realised she still didn’t know his name. She really did need to check out that file as soon as she got a chance.

“No thanks,” said Shaw. “I’d like to take a look around the house first.” She knew Hersh had probably already searched the place himself, but Shaw preferred to do her own sweep. Plus it would give her some needed distance from this new client that Shaw wasn’t sure what to make of.

“Alright,” said the husband. “But my study is off limits.”

Shaw nodded and watched carefully as he turned towards his wife, opened his mouth to say something and then thought better of it, disappearing out of the room awkwardly.

As soon as he had gone, Groves gathered up her jacket and purse.

“Where are you going?” Shaw said with a frown, stepping towards the door to block her way.

“Out,” said Groves.

“You can’t just leave,” said Shaw annoyed. “We need to know where you are going so we can plan a safe route, make sure the place gets cleared first.”

Groves rolled her eyes. “I’m just going to the store,” she said rationally. “Come if you want.”

“I don’t want,” snapped Shaw, following her out the door. “It’s my job.”

“Is it your job to be exaggeratedly paranoid?” Groves tossed over her shoulder lightly.

Shaw gritted her teeth and started to think that maybe this wasn’t going to be as easy a job as she had initially thought it would be.

Shaw clicked on her earpiece. “Cole, we’re going out.” Groves glanced at her curiously, but Shaw ignored her.

“ _What?_ ” Cole responded, sounding alarmed. “Where? Hersh hasn’t given me a list of routine locations yet.”

“Store, apparently,” said Shaw vaguely, glancing at Groves’ back in annoyance.

“Didn’t you tell her –” Cole began.

“I’m here to keep the rich people happy, Cole,” Shaw muttered bitterly but could tell by the smile on Groves’ face that she had heard her.

_And alive,_ Shaw added quietly to herself.


	2. Chapter 2

“Which colour do you prefer?” Groves held up two identical blouses, one bright yellow, the other pea green.

“I don’t care,” said Shaw, even though she thought they both looked horrific.

Groves smirked, putting both tops back on the rack and Shaw thought her face might have betrayed her thoughts a little.

“Aren’t you done yet?” Shaw asked haughtily. “We’ve been here for three hours.”

“Haven’t you ever been on a shopping spree before?” Groves asked, moving to another rack and skimming through the articles of clothing. “Or is all black your customary outfit?”

Shaw scowled and didn’t say anything.

Groves glanced up at her with a smirk. “Thought so.”

Shaw gritted her teeth and tightened her grip on the numerous shopping bags she was carrying for Groves. “Oh, and by the way,” said Shaw tightly, “I’m a personal security officer, not a mule.”

“Yes,” Groves agreed, “but one who is getting paid a lot of money by my husband.”

“To protect you,” Shaw said, “not to carry your crap.”

“I don’t see anyone trying to kill me now,” Groves pointed out breezily.

“That’s really not the point,” Shaw said wearily as Groves disappeared behind another rack.

“Okay, Shaw,” said Cole through her earpiece. “I’ve managed to get some eyes.”

“About time,” Shaw snapped under her breath.

“Sorry,” said Cole, not sounding apologetic, “but if you’d given me some more of a heads up, I could have hacked in before you arrived.”

“Don’t blame me,” Shaw grumbled. “Blame the principal.”

“Okay, I’ve found you,” said Cole. “Wow, you look like you are having lots of fun, Shaw.”

But Shaw ignored his sarcastic glee. “You see anything?”

“Nope,” said Cole, going back to business, “just your average customers. The only thing that looks out of place is you. Could you at least _try_ to smile?”

Shaw glanced up at the nearest security camera and glared at him.

Shaw could hear Cole snigger, despite the fact that he tried to hide it. “That’s kind of the exact opposite of what I meant, but whatever. How much longer do you think you are going to be?” he added.

“Fuck knows,” Shaw muttered in response and received an odd look from one of the other shoppers, Shaw ignored them though. “Who needs this many clothes?” she asked, looking at the shopping bags in her hands. Groves had bought more clothes in the last hour than Shaw would require in a year, and that was including the clothes she ruined due to her occupation.

“I guess that’s how the other half lives,” said Cole. “If I had that kind of money, I’d buy like ten cars, a house with a pool in Miami… get that private jet I’ve always wanted.”

Shaw snorted. “What would _you_ do with a private jet?”

“Uh, Shaw?” said Cole and Shaw noted the slight hitch of alarm to his tone. “Where did she go?”

Shaw glanced around and realised she had lost sight of the principal. “Shit,” said Shaw, dumping the bags of shopping at her feet. “Do you see her?”

Shaw doubled back a few racks but there was no sign of Groves anywhere. “ _Cole_?” Shaw snapped.

“No,” Cole stammered. “I can’t see her.”

Shaw swore under her breath. She was pretty sure this was what Hersh had meant by not making any mistakes and she could already picture just how pissed off he would be if she screwed this up the first day on the job. “Cole?” she said again.

“There’s a blind spot to your left,” said Cole.

Shaw went where he directed, realised his “blind spot” was the woman’s changing rooms: little curtained-off cubicles along a lengthy corridor. Shaw stalked done the narrow hall, glancing in each cubicle as she passed. They were all empty apart from the one at the end, which had its curtain firmly closed. Shaw walked over to it without thinking and tore the curtain open.

Groves didn’t even flinch, just turned around with her eyebrow quirked in amusement. It took Shaw a moment to realise she was naked from the waist up. It took her even _longer_ to realise that she was staring and she had to force her eyes upwards to look Groves in the eye and was met with a smug smirk.

“If you wanted to help me change,” said Groves, not even bothering to cover herself up, “all you had to do was ask.”

Shaw found her eyes wandering downwards again and she had to force herself not to lick her lips at the sight of hardened nipples. Shaw snapped her eyes upwards once again and cleared her throat.

“Uh…” she said, then realised she didn’t have a clue what to say. So she left, disappearing back the way she had come, and she was pretty sure Groves was laughing at her as she leaned against the wall at the entrance to the changing rooms.

“Shaw?” said Cole, who must have spotted her on one of the security cameras. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” Shaw said hurriedly.

“Are you okay?” Cole asked slowly.

“Yep,” said Shaw, a little breathless, and smacked her head against the wall behind her.

“Uh, okay,” said Cole, not sounding convinced, but he didn’t push her on it.

Shaw shook her head in annoyance, because _really?_ Any normal person would have knocked first. But she hadn’t been thinking straight. She had been thinking about how pissed Hersh would be, how she was hanging onto her job by a thread and she was most definitely _not_ thinking about how this new client of hers seemed to be so good at pushing every single one of Shaw’s buttons when they had only met each other four hours ago.

But instead of getting embarrassed by it, Shaw just used it to fuel her impatience and she was determined to wipe that stupid smug smirk off of Groves’ face as soon as Shaw saw her walk out of the changing rooms.

“Okay, I think we need to establish some ground rules,” Shaw said testily and tried to bite back her annoyance when Groves just breezed past her. “Rule number one,” Shaw continued regardless, keeping Groves within her line of sight and almost stepping on her heels as she hurried to keep up, “no wandering off.”

“I thought ‘do as you say’ was rule number one,” Groves said absently as she hung a piece of clothing back on the rack.

Shaw rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she snapped. “Do as I say and don’t wander off: two number one rules.”

“Well, they can’t both be number one,” Groves pointed out and Shaw had to bite the inside of her mouth to stop herself from saying something that would likely get her fired. Cole’s sniggering in her ear wasn’t helping either.

“I’m really starting to like this woman,” Cole said cheerfully.

“Shut up,” Shaw muttered under her breath and followed Groves to the cash register.

Groves glanced at her over her shoulder and narrowed her eyes. “Where’s my shopping?”

Shaw gritted her teeth and headed back to the section of the store where she had dumped the bags, gathering them up into her hands. Groves followed her dutifully, but it was only so she could hand Shaw her latest purchase. Shaw snatched it off her with more force than necessary.

“Can we go now?” Shaw asked.

“We’re done shopping,” Groves said and led Shaw out of the store.

“Well, thank fuck for small miracles,” Shaw muttered.

“You know,” said Cole absently in her ear, “I’m starting to notice a pattern with this woman and your vocabulary...”

“Shut up, Cole.”

But instead of leading them out of the department store like Shaw had been expecting, Groves took them onto an escalator and up to another floor.

“I thought you said you were done,” Shaw said coolly.

“I said we were done shopping,” Groves tossed over her shoulder lightly.

Shaw narrowed her eyes and decided she didn’t like where this was going and her concerns were confirmed when Groves got off the escalator and paused outside another part of the store.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Shaw said faintly.

“Please tell me you are getting a mani-pedi?” said Cole ecstatically. “But wait until I get my recording equipment set up… Wilson’s gonna love this.”

“I hate you,” Shaw muttered to him and followed Groves inside.

And she was most definitely _not_ getting a manicure or pedicure or anything else that required someone coming near her, a fact that she made very clear to the first shop assistant who came over to her, clutching different brands of make-up in her hand. Shaw’s glare and terse dismal sent her running and if Groves seemed phased by her new bodyguard’s unpleasantness, she didn’t allow it to show, just kept her face neutral and made small talk with the woman giving her a manicure.

Shaw stepped away from them a little, still with Groves in her line of sight, still near enough for Shaw to do something quickly if anything happened.

“Tell me about our principal,” she said to Cole, thinking that if she was going to be standing around here bored, she may as well be listening to something useful.

“Didn’t you read the file?” Cole asked.

“I didn’t exactly have time,” Shaw snapped in annoyance.

“Uh, okay,” said Cole and she heard the shuffling of papers as Cole got out his own file. “Samantha Groves… thirty-one years old… been married just shy of two years. Used to work freelance at her husband’s company, that’s how they met.”

“Freelance doing what?” Shaw asked.

“Something with computers,” said Cole vaguely.

“That’s it?” said Shaw. “ _Something_ with computers. Isn’t this supposed to be your area of expertise?”

“There’s nothing in the file,” Cole said defensively, “which probably means that whatever it was, the company wants it kept confidential.”

“Whatever,” Shaw muttered, but she did wonder absently if Groves’ work was the reason she had a hit out on her.

“Anyway,” Cole continued, “she hasn’t done any work for them since she got married.”

“What has she been doing since then?” Shaw asked, disregarding her previous theory but not totally keeping it out of her mind.

“Dunno,” said Cole. “Charity work? What do bored rich people do?”

“No idea,” said Shaw, watching closely as Groves laughed at something the make-up assistant said. It was a throaty laugh, one that carried over like a breeze to where Shaw was standing and she found the sound wasn’t all that unpleasant to her ears. Shaw shook her head and focused on what Cole was saying.

“Shouldn’t you be asking the principal this, anyway?” Cole asked. “You are the primary PSO on this. What’s all that crap Hersh is always spouting about forming a bond?”

Shaw snorted. “Hersh hired me because I _don’t_ get attached. And besides,” she added, “I’m the _only_ PSO on this.”

“All the more reason why you _should_ be talking to her about it,” Cole pointed out.

“Whatever,” she muttered, although she knew that he was right. She couldn’t do her job properly if she didn’t know every detail of Groves’ life, and Groves herself was the fastest way to get that information.

About thirty minutes later, Groves was done with her manicure and she smiled brightly at Shaw on her way out. Shaw snatched up the shopping bags and followed her.

“ _Now_ are you done?” Shaw asked.

Groves glanced at her and slowed her pace so that Shaw could catch up. “Maybe,” she said, eyeing Shaw up and down.

Shaw narrowed her eyes suspiciously, wondering what else Groves could possibly need to do and just how much Cole was going to enjoy himself watching her suffer through it.

“Relax,” said Groves. “How about some lunch?”

It wasn’t really a question because Shaw had no choice but to follow and Groves led them down to one of the lower levels where there were a couple of restaurants. One of the waiters must have known Groves because he led them straight to a table, despite the long queue of other people waiting to get in.

Shaw sat down, making sure her back wasn’t to the room and that she could see the front, and took the menu the waiter handed her.

Groves ordered her usual and Shaw glanced at the menu briefly before placing her own order and handing the menu back, her eyes darting about the room almost simultaneously. When her eyes rested back on Groves, the other woman was watching her carefully.

“What?” asked Shaw.

Groves shrugged and waited for the waiter to put their drinks down and disappear before speaking. “Is it because my husband is paying your expenses that you just ordered the most expensive thing off the menu?”

“No,” said Shaw sullenly, who hadn’t even realised it _was_ the most expensive thing off the menu. “I like steak. And I’m hungry.” Besides, she had skipped breakfast that morning in her rush to get across town, she could do with the protein.

Groves smirked at her around her glass of wine before taking a healthy gulp.

Shaw frowned. “You always drink in the middle of the day?”

Groves shrugged. “Nothing else to do.”

“What, no freelance work?” Shaw asked.

Groves smiled at her slightly, like she was impressed that Shaw knew about that part of her life. Or maybe she was just surprised that Shaw was attempting to make small talk. Shaw knew _she_ was, and so was Cole judging by the snickering coming over the earpiece and the muttered “try to be nice” he offered as a piece of friendly advice.

Shaw ignored him though. His job was to be her eyes and ears, not to tell her how to interact with the principal. Even if he had on more than one occasion helped her to do just that. But with Groves it felt different, and she didn’t like the way Cole sat heavily in her ear, the way he could hear everything, like he was intruding on something that should have remained private. Shaw didn’t know what to make of the feeling, all she knew was that she felt uncomfortable about the whole thing, that she was out of her element and she was starting to think that this job, this _client_ , was a little more complicated than she had initially been expecting.

And she wondered how much that had to do with the woman sitting in front of her and the way she had easily got under Shaw’s skin so quickly.

They lapsed into silence, but Shaw didn’t mind it. She preferred it and she attacked her steak with relish when it arrived and only paused when she glanced up to look at Groves and realised she wasn’t actually eating anything, just moving the salad around on her plate with her fork.

“So when you said lunch,” said Shaw slowly, “you meant a liquid lunch?”

Groves started a little and popped a piece of emerald green lettuce in her mouth as if she were trying to prove something. But then she swallowed back the remainder of her wine glass and it kind of lost its effect. She sat back, arms folded as she stared silently at Shaw.

Shaw wasn’t all that fond of people watching her eat and she dropped the fork onto her plate with half her steak unfinished and sat back, matching Groves’ stare.

It made her wonder though, the not eating and the drinking, just how well Groves was handling all this. She was hiding it well, Shaw thought, but she also thought she could see something at the edge of Groves’ look, like she wasn’t quite all there, like part of her had disappeared along with the man who had tried to kill her.

“We should get back,” Groves said eventually and waved the waiter over to pay their bill.

Shaw said nothing and watched silently as Groves stood up, steady on her feet despite the glass of wine on an empty stomach. Shaw snatched up the bags of shopping and followed her out of the restaurant.

“Cole, we’re leaving,” she said, knowing it was redundant, knowing that he was watching them both carefully.


	3. Chapter 3

Despite not getting to finish her steak, Shaw was glad to be leaving the department store. Groves took some of the shopping this time, which Shaw was just glad left her gun hand free. She wouldn't say she was expecting trouble, but then again, she really didn't have enough information on this case to make that call. It left her feeling annoyed and once again she had the distinct suspicion that Hersh was trying to punish her, whether he admitted to it or not. At least she had Cole watching them carefully, but she still felt uneasy as they exited onto the bustling New York street.

Groves hailed them a cab and when she got inside it, even that left Shaw unsettled. Standard protocol was to use their own vetted drivers, but clearly that was another thing the client hadn't wanted. Shaw wondered if that was Groves' doing or the husband’s, but supposed it didn't matter much either way. It still made her job all the more difficult.

Shaw sat in sullen silence the whole ride back and she wondered if Groves had detected her mood or if she had just tired herself out with all the shopping and being a general pain in the ass, because she remained silent too and didn't say a word to Shaw as she paid the driver and headed inside the apartment building. Conveniently abandoning the shopping bags, Shaw noted indignantly and gathered them up into her hands, grumbling under her breath as she headed inside. By the time she had won her fight with the front door, the shopping bags being decidedly uncooperative, (Shaw chose to deliberately ignore the doorman's unhelpful smirk and Cole's sniggering in her ear) Groves was nowhere in sight.

"She already took the elevator up," Cole informed her. At least he had eyes inside the building, even if the client hadn't wanted them inside the apartment itself. But it didn't stop Shaw from swearing under her breath as she waited for the elevator to come back down. Clearly Groves hadn't been listening to a word she had said when she had been laying down her ground rules earlier.

The elevator eventually dinged open. Shaw glanced inside, noting that it was mercifully empty and dumped the bags at her feet once she had shuffled in.

"Has someone dropped off my gear yet?" asked Shaw, her tone of voice indicating that she was in no mood for anymore of Cole's playfulness.

"I think Wilson did," said Cole.

A grumble escaped Shaw's lips. Wilson had a nasty habit of going through her stuff and she made a mental note to check that all her weapons were still there and in one piece.

She always had the essentials packed just in case, ready to go wherever Hersh decided to send her next. The essentials included an array of weapons of varying lethalness, a few spare changes of clothes and a toothbrush. Shaw didn't mind the uncertainty of her job. In fact, it was one of the things she liked about it. And although she rarely saw as much action as she would have if she were still in the marines, she still got enough to keep her happy, to keep her occupied.

The elevator reached the top floor and Shaw once again gathered up the bags and struggled to get them through the apartment’s front door. Shaw wondered vaguely why she was even still carrying them, why she hadn't just left them in the cab or dumped them at the doorman's feet for him to deal with. It annoyed her, now that she thought about it. It annoyed her that Groves had known she would carry them up for her before Shaw had even known it herself.

But it didn't annoy her as much as the front door being unlocked did.

Did basic security precautions mean nothing to these people?

"Good grief."

Shaw glanced up wearily to find the husband staring at the shopping bags she had just dumped on the floor.

"That'll be the credit cards maxed out again," he added lightly. Shaw couldn't tell if that was annoyance playing across his face. She didn't think that it should be. It wasn't like they couldn't afford it. "She always does this," this husband explained. "When she is upset. I think it is therapeutic."

Shaw didn't think so. It hadn't seemed very therapeutic to her. Especially not when Groves had gulped down half a bottle of wine at lunch. But Shaw didn't say that to the husband.

The husband cleared his throat awkwardly, clearly put off by Shaw's lack of participation in the conversation. "Your colleague dropped this off for you," he said, gesturing to the black duffel bag lying in the middle of the floor. "Careful, it's heavy," he added as Shaw picked it up with ease and hooked it over her shoulder. She wondered if he had looked inside. If her choice of weaponry had left him feeling nervous.

"I'll get it out of your way," said Shaw, heading for the room he had indicated was for her use earlier.

The room was spacious and inviting. Cream floral wallpaper covered the walls and a large painting depicting bright, yellow flowers hung above the bed. Shaw decided she hated it and dumped the bag on the bed, unzipping it and tossing the spare clothing aside. She made a quick mental check that all her weapons were accounted for and took out her silencer, fixing it to her spare nano and stashing it in the drawer of the bedside table.

After grabbing a compact she placed the bag on the floor and pushed it under the bed. It was always best to be over prepared, Shaw thought, and she was already mentally calculating where it would be best to conceal the compact within the apartment. Somewhere within easy reach if getting to this room would be an issue. Not that Shaw wouldn't be carrying at all times. She always was when on a job. Even whilst she slept, there was a gun tucked under pillow or still strapped to her ankle, despite any subsequent uncomfortableness. Besides, she was used to sleeping rough, on top of hard, unforgiving ground. She could handle a piece of metal digging into her skin for a few nights.

Shaw tucked the compact behind her back into the waistband of her pants, thinking once again how little she knew about this case, how in the dark she was. She didn't like it, knew she couldn't do her job to the best of her abilities without knowing all the facts. She remembered the file then, the one that Hersh had handed her before he left. In her mad dash to make sure Groves didn't leave the apartment by herself, Shaw had left it in the other room. She went to go retrieve it now, knocking softly on the door, waiting to be allowed in rather than barging straight through like she was tempted to.

"Come in," a soft voice called and Shaw stepped through hesitantly, wondering what she was so apprehensive of.

The file was lying on the bed where she had left it. Shaw snapped it up, intending to leave and retreat into her own room, study it until she had it memorised. But something stopped her and she hesitated, hovering awkwardly as she waited for Groves to reappear out of what Shaw presumed was an en-suite bathroom.

Some five minutes later, Groves made an appearance, stopping up short when her eyes landed on Shaw.

"Oh, it's you," she said, not unkindly as she dried off her hands with the white towel in her hand.

"Just came to get this," Shaw said, holding up the file, feeling like she had to justify her presence.

She wondered though, who Groves _had_ been expecting, why she looked so flustered all of sudden, compared to that morning when she was running around, all smug smiles and knowing, mischievous eyes. Shaw cleared her throat awkwardly as Groves continued to stare at her, as if she were expecting more from Shaw. "Your shopping's in the living room," Shaw said coolly, turning on her heel and making a quick escape.

She practically banged into the husband on her way out, his hands automatically reaching out to hold her steady. Shaw pulled herself roughly from his grip, eyes turning hard until she remembered who he was. That she was supposed to be playing nice and not shooting glares to the people paying her (well, Hersh) a lot of money.

Floundering for a moment, Shaw opened her mouth to say something polite and proper. The husband seemed to take pity on her, his face softening as a small smile played at his lips. It made the glare want to set up camp on Shaw's face, but she managed to control her features all the same.

"Since you'll be staying here for the indefinite future," the husband began, "why don't you call me Paul." He held out his hand like they had just met for the first time and stared at her expectantly. Shaw ignored the hand and it took her a while to realise what he was expecting from her, that he wanted to be on a first name basis for some unknown reason. Shaw looked past him and saw Groves smirking at her over his shoulder, making Shaw want to grind her teeth together.

"I'll be in my room if you need me," she said to no one in particular. To Groves she added, "Don't make any plans to go anywhere."

Shaw held back her own smirk at the way Groves' lips seemed to thin at that. She clearly wasn't the type of person used to being told what to do, and judging by the number of shopping bags currently sitting in the living room, she was used to getting what she wanted.

But Shaw wasn't about to let that happen under her watch and judging by the cold look Groves shot her, she knew it and wasn't happy about it.

Not that Shaw expected it to be easy. She was learning fast that with this woman, _nothing_ was easy.

With the husband occupied, Shaw took the opportunity to have a look around the apartment. Shaw didn't like it. It was too big. Too many rooms for people to hide in. She searched each and every one of them though, taking in every detail. Every window and how it locked, how accessible the apartment was for someone trying to break in. All in all it was pretty secure; locks on every window and being thirty floors up helped. But there was still something about the place that set Shaw on edge and she couldn't quite put her finger on it, no matter how long and hard she thought about it.

There was only one room left to check and Shaw was annoyed to find it locked. She briefly considered picking it and breaking in, but then realised that was definitely something that would not only piss the client off, but Hersh too.

She was right about the client; he looked positively livid as he stalked towards her, eyes hard as he took in the sight of her hovering by the door. She doubted she looked guilty, but she crossed her arms and realised her stance must have looked defence, like she was up to something. Like she _had_ just been thinking about kicking the door down.

Vague memories of the husband telling her his study was out of bounds flashed through her mind, making her wonder what he kept in there that he so desperately wanted to keep a secret.

"Your study?" Shaw asked.

"Yes," he said tightly. "And I would appreciate it if you didn't go snooping."

Shaw shrugged, figuring it was easier than arguing and watched silently as he pulled a key from his pocket, unlocked the door and then proceeded to lock it again once he was inside. Shaw rolled her eyes, wondering if Groves had a key, if she even knew what her husband got up to in there.

Shaw headed back to her own room and begun her research, hoping it would gleam something about this whole thing.

The file was pathetically thin, Shaw quickly realised. It was amateurish in its simplicity, and that irked her. They were professionals, Hersh prided himself on how detailed they were at gathering all the right information, how serious they took each job and how dedicated they were to actually protecting their clients. Okay, so maybe a lot of that was the party line he spouted to new clients, but it _was_ true, and Shaw _hated_ working with amateurs.

It was almost as if Hersh didn’t have four former secret service agents on his payroll, not to mention countless other former professionals from various fields. It’s why they were the best. Hersh was good at utilising the various skills of everyone under his command.

But _this,_ this was piss poor and Shaw wondered if Hersh was losing his edge or if the client really was that picky.

All that the file contained was a brief (and brief was an understatement) description of the principal's background. Even the information on the husband was limited. Paul Greer, vice president of a company called Decima Technologies. Shaw had never heard of it and when she asked Cole, he informed her it was a tech company largely based out of China.

"These guys are pretty awesome," Cole gushed, "they never leak what they are working on. Just… _bam_! New piece of equipment on the market that no one had been expecting. They've managed to get their own stuff out before other companies who had been marketing the tech for weeks, completely wiping out their sales from under them."

"That's bound to have pissed someone off," Shaw pondered absently.

"Yeah," said Cole, "but the wife doesn't work for Decima anymore, so why would they be targeting her?"

"Maybe it's not her they're really after," Shaw said. "Maybe it's the husband."

"Okay," said Cole, although he sounded sceptical. "So they were using the wife to get to the husband?"

"Or the wife got in the way," said Shaw. "Do we have access to the police report?"

"Nah, nothing," said Cole.

Shaw swore under her breath. " _Was_ there even a police report?"

"I don't know," Cole said and then added, a little hesitantly, "Why don't you ask your friend?"

Shaw rolled her eyes before she remembered he couldn't see her.

"Would be helpful if Hersh had just given us all the information in the first place," she grumbled, changing the subject and hoping Cole wouldn’t notice.

"Yeah, well, he's being a little cagey today."

Shaw grunted in agreement. She would feel bad at Cole being lumped in alongside her during this punishment (or whatever the hell Hersh wanted to call it) but considering he had been shamelessly enjoying himself at her expense all morning, she decided she didn't feel all that bad after all.

"Call me if you get something," she said and shut off her earpiece so he could no longer hear her. It wasn't exactly standard procedure, but Shaw needed a break, some time to herself without feeling like someone was watching her every move.

The rest of the file was pretty much everything Cole had relayed to her in the department store. Shaw tossed it aside bitterly and leaned over to reach for her duffel bag, rummaging around inside it until she found her gun cleaning kit. Cleaning her guns had always been therapeutic. It helped Shaw to clear her mind and let go of any annoyance that was still lingering over this case.

Shaw was so absorbed by what she was doing that she completely missed dinner and only stopped when her stomach decided to protest loudly. She set her cleaning things aside and ventured out of her room.

It was late, the apartment shrouded in darkness. Shaw made her way through back to the living room by memory alone and was surprised to find it not as empty as she had hoped.

"You missed dinner," Groves said, not even bothering to turn around.

Shaw watched her carefully as she stared out of the window, seemingly lost in thought.

"There's some leftovers in the fridge if you want."

"You shouldn't be near the windows," Shaw said, moving towards her. She hesitated as she got closer though, remembering Hersh's words and figuring it probably wouldn't be wise to manhandle the client.

Groves snorted. "We're thirty floors up. And overlooking the park."

"Doesn't matter," Shaw said testily. "An M24 sniper rifle and a skilled marksman could easily make that shot. It's not that hard," she added with a shrug.

The corners of Groves' lips turned upwards into a smirk.

"I think we can include immodesty onto your list of traits," Groves said impishly. "Paranoia being one of the first, obviously."

Shaw glared and had to hold back the acidic response that she so desperately wanted to give. She knew better than to push her luck. No matter how tempting it would be to wipe the smirk from Groves’ face, Shaw knew that if it got back to Hersh, she would be out of a job.

"Come on," said Groves, "I'll get you something to eat."

The glower didn't leave Shaw's face, despite the prospect of food and she followed Groves into the kitchen, watching silently as she collected a plate of food wrapped in tin foil from the fridge. A large island counter stood in the centre of the room and Groves gestured for Shaw to take a seat on one of the stools. With reluctant footsteps, Shaw took a seat, sitting with her arms folded. This was the part she hated about being the primary PSO, the way you had to live in close confinement with the principal. It was easier with a rotation of PSO's, at least then you could get a night off, get away and eat and sleep in peace. Already Shaw could feel an air of anticipation around everything, her eyes on constant alert, just waiting for something to happen. She was on edge and suspected she would be for a while. Her discomfort at being around other people for so long only adding to it.

A knowing smile flew over Groves' shoulder, making Shaw wonder if she knew just how uncomfortable this whole thing made her. But maybe it was knowing because Groves felt it too. She had voiced her protests against having a bodyguard from the start. Shaw knew from experience the strain a principal could feel, having someone constantly watching your every move.

"I hope you like lasagne," Groves said, either choosing to ignore Shaw's sullen silence or completely oblivious to it. "My husband thinks of himself as an aspiring chef. I've yet to tell him his food leaves a lot to be desired."

Still Shaw said nothing and she wondered if Groves did this normally, if she always felt the need to fill silence with drivel. She suspected not, if their lunch was anything to go by, and it left Shaw with the distinct feeling that Groves was trying to get a rise out of her. Shaw didn't fall for the bait, just accepted the plate of food once it had been reheated in the microwave and swallowed it down without a word. Groves spent the meal watching her eat, her eyes like heavy weights sitting on Shaw's shoulders. Shaw tried her best to ignore it, ignore the scrutiny and the amusement that danced across Groves' face at Shaw's discomfort.

It made Shaw want to get her own back and she asked, without even bothering to look up from her plate of food, “You wanna tell me what happened that night?”

Silence filled the room like a heavy shroud. When Shaw looked up, Groves had an odd look on her face, pinched and tight. Something akin to anger, but not quite. Shaw wasn’t sure what it meant and wasn’t surprised when she didn’t receive an answer. She wondered if Groves was remembering it though, remembering how she had almost been killed. If that was the reason she was still up so late.

After a while, Groves left her to her meal, disappearing back through the apartment and presumably towards her own room. Shaw quickly finished her food - it wasn't the best, but it would do for now - and cleaned up her plate. She took one last sweep around the apartment, checking that the front door and all the windows were locked and didn't retreat to her own room until she was satisfied that the place was secure.

But even then she still felt uneasy as she lay down on the unfamiliar bed. It was too soft and after tossing and turning for what felt like hours, she gave it up in favour of the hard floor. _That_ she was familiar with, sleep finding her easily after that.


	4. Chapter 4

Unused to unfamiliar surroundings and noises, Shaw woke up early to the sound of clattering from further within the apartment. A quick check on her earpiece informed her that Cole was back on duty and all was well. Then she headed for the shower in the en-suite bathroom, turning the heat up high and savouring the way the hot water scalded her skin.

She wasn't feeling as refreshed as she would like, more bone weary like she had been under physical strain the day before rather than following her new client around a department store. Sleeping on it hadn't made her feel any less bitter about that thought, just like it hadn't made her feel any less annoyed about Hersh and his vagueness. She was surprised that she hadn't heard from him yet. It wasn't his standard MO to constantly check in on his PSO's, but considering her recent screw up and how pissed off he had been, she was surprised he hadn't called to check up on her.

If he had heard about the incident with the client's study yesterday, he was either dealing with it himself or choosing to ignore it. It made her wonder if he was having Cole do it instead, keeping an eye on her, and she remembered how it felt like there was someone constantly watching her yesterday, despite the fact that she was used to always having Cole's eyes on her and whatever client they were dealing with. But yesterday felt different. It felt more sinister, more of an invasion that had less to do with Cole's sniggering at her discomfort and more to do with... something else. Something Shaw couldn't quite put her finger on. She couldn't work out if it was something to do with her new client or just down to her own general paranoia.

She knew what Cole would say, if she voiced her concerns to him. That she _was_ being paranoid, that she was hanging onto her job by a thread and that if she wanted to keep it, she had better start staying focused. Not that Shaw needed Cole to remind her of that. She could stay focused, she could do her job. Because she did like it, to a certain extent. Sometimes she got bored (they all did) and sometimes it made her trigger finger itchy (if her last job was anything to go by) but at least it kept her occupied and gave her some decent action for the most part.

So she would try to stay in Hersh's good graces as best she could. And if that meant playing nice and friendly with the client, then so be it. Maybe she would even apologise for the incident yesterday with the study (although even as Shaw thought it, she doubted it, cringing at the idea) but she would try her best at least _not_ to piss off Greer any more than she already had.

Cold air hit her skin as soon as Shaw shut off the shower and pulled back the door, a welcome contrast to the burning of her skin. She wasn’t expecting another person though and prided herself on being able to step out without flinching. The only evidence to her surprise at the uninvited guest was the glare Shaw hurdled her way.

"Thought you could do with some fresh towels," Groves said, a wicked grin on her face as she eyed Shaw deliberately up and down. Shaw didn't even try to cover herself up and wondered vaguely if this was payback for the changing room incident yesterday. "The guest towels are getting a bit shabby."

Shaw said nothing and didn't reach for the proffered towel and she thought, for one terrible moment, that Groves was just going to stand there all day, continuing to stare at her with that annoying smirk on her face. Eventually, either bored by the non-reaction or finally taking pity on her, Shaw didn't know, Groves left the bathroom, but not before tossing a devilish wink over her shoulder that Shaw assumed she must have thought looked coy or whatever. Either way, Shaw wasn't impressed. Just more pissed off and, if anything, counting down the days until this stupid job was over and she wouldn't have to see Groves ever again.

*

Despite attempting to do some further digging and probing Hersh for information, Cole still had nothing to report. It annoyed Shaw, that whatever was going on - and something _was_ going on, she was sure of it - that Hersh was keeping it from her, from _them_. It made her start to doubt she was being punished, but it didn't leave her feeling any better about the whole thing.

One thing had been gleaned from Cole's enquiries though. There had indeed been a police report filed. But whatever it contained, whatever new information that may enlighten Shaw about this whole case, remained a mystery.

"Apparently Hersh hasn't seen it," Cole informed her.

"You believe him?" Shaw asked. It was after lunch and she was bored senseless. Apparently bored rich people watched crappy TV and messed about on computers all day.

"I dunno," Cole said hesitantly and Shaw could tell he was wary of getting himself into trouble.

But that had never been a problem for Shaw.

"I want that report, Cole," she snapped, retreating into the hallway so Groves wouldn't overhear her.

"Don't look at me," said Cole. "You're the one with a cop friend."

Shaw sighed heavily, hoping to avoid this but knowing it would have to come down to it eventually. "Fine," she snapped. "Get Wilson down here to cover for me tonight," she added, pinching the bridge of her nose as she turned her earpiece off again. Then she sent a quick text with Groves' details and arranged a meeting for tonight. She didn't receive an immediate reply and wondered if that was an ominous sign or not.

It had been a while, after all.

*

Groves (although she had tried to hide it) and her husband didn't look too pleased about that evening's arrangements. Apparently switching PSOs for just a few hours wasn't part of the deal they had with Hersh. It was the husband that kicked up more of a fuss, making Shaw wonder once again just what exactly he was keeping in that study of his.

Wilson didn't look too pleased about it either actually. Not that Shaw could care less. But Wilson was good (not as good as her, obviously) and at least there was only a slim chance of him screwing something up whilst she was gone.

"Can't wait to get away from me already, huh?" The smirk on Groves' face didn't quite mask the annoyance in her voice. Shaw wondered what it was for. She doubted Groves felt offended. Maybe it just came back to that whole not wanting a bodyguard thing. Or maybe it was just because she didn't know how to get under Wilson's skin, that the casual flirting she kept directing at Shaw wouldn't have the same effect on him. Either way, Shaw was just glad to have the night off.

"Need to find out who these guys are that are after you," Shaw said, shrugging into her jacket and ignoring the way Groves had entered her room for the second time that day without asking. At least Shaw was dressed this time.

Groves seemed to stiffen slightly, arms crossed tightly against her body. "Why?" she asked. "I thought it wasn't part of your job... need to know and all that."

"I can't _do_ my job if I don't know what the hell is going on," said Shaw. "And since you don't seem very forthcoming..."

Shaw made to leave, passing by Groves, still standing in the doorway. She glared at the hand that caught her forearm and Groves let her go almost immediately. Shaw was surprised by the fear she saw in her eyes, so contradictory to the aloofness that was there yesterday.

"Please," said Groves, "just... let it go."

There was a quietness to her tone; a mixture of fear and something else that Shaw couldn't quite put her finger on. She didn't like it, whatever it was, the way it made it so difficult for Shaw to read her, like there was something more sinister bubbling away below the surface. She doubted it though and marvelled at how far her paranoia had extended in the last few hours.

But _was_ it paranoia though?

This whole case felt off, right from the start. Hersh was keeping stuff from her, the client was keeping stuff from her... and it wasn't little things. It was things that could get in the way of Shaw doing her job, putting the principal's life, _and_ hers, at risk.

“I’ll be back later,” Shaw muttered and left Groves standing in the doorway.

*

The amber liquid burned as it made its way down Shaw’s throat. She savoured the taste, not knowing when her next opportunity for a drink would be and checked her phone for the tenth time in the last five minutes. She was beginning to think she had been stood up.

Not that she was entirely surprised by that.

Shaw was about to give up and call it quits when she felt a hand brush against her shoulder.

“How come you only call when you need a favour?”

“Detective Carter,” Shaw said by way of greeting. She smirked and pushed the second glass of scotch that had been sitting in front of her towards the detective.

“I’m on the clock,” said Carter as she sat down, her voice a little tight.

Shaw shrugged and pulled the glass back, pouring it into her own almost empty one and taking a deep drink.

“What have you got for me?” she asked. This wasn’t the first time Shaw had employed Carter’s skills and she doubted it would be the last. They had met just shy of a year ago when Shaw had been working on a case; the client some high up politician that had a nasty stalker that had been harassing him relentlessly for months. It hadn’t been the most exciting case Shaw had ever worked on. Which is probably why she had ended up chasing the stalker through the streets of Manhattan, her gun out and, evidently, scaring a shit ton of New Yorkers enough for her to get arrested. Carter had been the detective assigned to the case. And after scolding her and confiscating several concealed weapons for which Shaw did not have a valid licence for, she had let Shaw go without filing a report.

Ever since then they had been tentative friends, occasionally more than that, with Shaw calling every now and then for a few favours. She wasn’t sure what Carter got out of the deal. Maybe she was just that good hearted, that even if it wasn’t a case she was working, she was still determined to help people.

“What,” said Carter, raising her eyebrow and Shaw couldn’t tell if it was in amusement or not, “no ‘hello’ first?”

Shaw rolled her eyes. “Can we cut through the crap? Just tell me what you found.”

Carter sighed and pulled the cell phone out of her pocket, checking the screen before setting it down on the bar top in front of her. It made Shaw wonder if she was looking for an excuse to leave despite only being here for barely two minutes.

“Nothing,” said Carter.

Shaw frowned. “I thought a report got filed?”

“It did,” said Carter. She waved the barman over and ordered a beer. So much for being on the clock. “But someone removed it.”

“HR?” Shaw guessed. She knew all about the NYPD’s group of corrupt cops. She had never dealt with them directly but she knew Carter had, that she knew more than one cop on HR’s payroll.

Carter nodded. “Either someone paid them to get rid of it…”

“Or HR were responsible for the original hit,” Shaw finished. She bit her lip. It didn’t make her case any clearer. It made her more unsettled than anything. HR were everywhere, had fingers in pockets all over town. Anyone could have hired them to take out Groves.

“Either way,” said Carter, taking a sip of her beer, “if I know HR, and I do, they won’t rest until they’ve finished the job.”

Shaw didn’t doubt that and she wondered if Hersh knew about it and if he did, why he hadn’t just told her about it. Why all the secrecy?

“Speaking of jobs,” said Carter quietly, “I’m surprised you still have one.”

There was a smile tugging at the corners of Carter’s lips. Shaw swallowed down her drink roughly without saying anything, wondering if she was about to be given a lecture. It was bad enough hearing it from Hersh.

“Relax,” Carter crooned, seemingly taking pity on her. “If it makes you feel any better, I would have shot the child raping bastard myself.”

It didn’t actually. Not that Shaw had been feeling guilty about it. She hadn’t felt anything. Just annoyance at Hersh’s reaction and bored with all the police interviews and paperwork that had followed. At least Carter had helped with that and made it go away faster than Shaw had been anticipating.

“Anyway,” said Carter, “I heard he confessed, so at least you don’t have to make a court appearance.”

Shaw shrugged and wished Carter would just change the subject. She didn’t like to admit it, but that whole case was a bit of a sore spot, the only blemish on an otherwise perfect record. Shaw didn’t regret her actions, and would do it again in a heartbeat, but something about the whole thing had left something unsettled within her.

When she had taken Hersh’s job offer three years ago, she had been sceptical. She had thought she would have gotten bored quickly and wanted to move on. But, at the time, she had just come off a tour of duty, she was bored and working as a professional security officer had seemed like a good idea at the time.

She hadn’t been expecting to like it though. But she did, for the most part. And she was most definitely good at it. Which was why that last case had bothered her so much. She hadn’t so much as protected the client, but put him in the line of fire, _her_ fire. But she didn’t regret it. If anything, she regretted not putting the bullet between his eyes rather than just in his shoulder.

Hersh had been mad, understandably. It was his reputation on the line, after all, and Shaw had been surprised that he hadn’t gotten rid of her just to prove a point. But then again, it couldn’t do his reputation any harm either for people to know that his company didn’t tolerate, as Carter put it, ‘child raping bastards.’

“I’ll dig a little deeper,” said Carter, breaking into Shaw’s thoughts, “see what I can find.”

Shaw watched her swallow down the last of her beer and stand up. “You’re leaving?” she asked, more surprise in her tone than she had wanted to allow.

Carter paused, her eyes narrowing as she stared at Shaw. “Oh, I know that look.”

“What?” said Shaw, feigning ignorance but doubting she was actually succeeding.

“You really need to get laid,” said Carter and there was a hint of a smirk playing around her lips.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Shaw said sullenly.

“Uh-huh,” Carter goaded. “How about next time you call just for a drink and not a favour.”

Shaw opened her mouth to respond but Carter was already pushing her way through the crowd and out the door.

Turning back to her drink, Shaw was annoyed to find that it was empty and she hailed down the bartender, ordering another. She didn’t really care that she was supposed to be heading back to work soon, that Wilson was expecting her in a matter of hours. She felt like getting drunk.

And she didn’t know what she felt more disappointed about; gleaning no new information on her case, or Carter leaving so soon.


	5. Chapter 5

As the days went on, Shaw was starting to hate this entire situation more and more. She was _bored,_ dead bored. She wasn’t sure what was worse; that Groves sat around all day doing what appeared to Shaw to be absolutely nothing, or that when she did venture out, it was for something inane like shopping or getting her hair done or something as equally dull.

And during the long days when Groves stayed in, staring at her computer screen, Shaw found herself seeking out Cole’s company in his van even more. She didn’t care that it was cold out there, that she couldn’t switch off her earpiece to ignore him when he was sitting right next to her, physically talking in her ear. She didn’t care that she was sitting staring at monitors that showed nothing remotely interesting happening. At least it gave her the illusion that she was doing something. And at least she didn’t have to sit in that goddamn apartment with Groves throwing her looks every five seconds.

The flirting hadn’t been toned down and, if anything, it had only gotten worse. It wouldn’t have annoyed her so much if she wasn’t uncomfortably aware of the fact that Cole knew about it, that he was enjoying himself immensely at watching her attempt to ignore it and not get annoyed by it. And that, when she failed (which was more than often) he sniggered in her ear and made stupid comments about her actually liking it.

_As if,_ Shaw thought scornfully. Groves was a client, the _principal,_ and more annoying than anyone she had ever met. As if she would like her constant flirting and inappropriate innuendos. But her vehement protests never seemed to get her anywhere, and in the end, Shaw had settled for ignoring Cole too in the hopes that that would help make it all go away.

It didn’t.

“So what’s she doing today that’s got you running out here so fast?” Cole asked. He blew into a steaming paper cup of coffee, trying to appear innocent. Shaw didn’t fall for it and stared resolutely ahead at the monitors in front of her.

“Nothing,” said Shaw flatly. “You know how much I love the pleasure of your company.”

Cole snorted into his coffee. “Yeah right.”

He watched her expectantly for a moment, but Shaw didn’t say anything else and eventually he cleared his throat awkwardly and stared at his coffee as he swirled it around in the cup.

“Don’t you think it’s a little weird?” he asked.

Shaw tried not to roll her eyes. Of course he wasn’t about to let it go.

“Is what a little weird?” she said tightly.

Cole shrugged and when Shaw glanced at him, it looked like he wished more than anything that he had never started the conversation.

“What’s weird?” Shaw repeated, annoyance creeping into her voice.

“You know,” said Cole as if that clarified everything.

“No,” said Shaw. “I don’t.” She wondered why she was continuing to push, why she wasn’t just ignoring this conversation along with everything else. “So why don’t you just tell me.”

Cole sighed. “She’s married. Groves, I mean.”

“So?” said Shaw, although she suspected where he was going with this.

“The way she acts around you…”

“I know, Cole,” said Shaw quietly. “It’s nothing.”

“If Hersh finds out-”

“He won’t,” Shaw snapped. “Because nothing is going to happen.”

“Right,” said Cole and drained the rest of his coffee. He tossed the empty cup on the pile of trash that had been gathering in the corner ever since the start of this case. Shaw frowned at it.

“I just think you should be careful,” Cole added after a while.

Shaw rolled her eyes. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know that,” said Cole. “Actually, I’m saying this for purely selfish reasons. I don’t wanna work with Wilson fulltime.”

Shaw cracked a small smile at that. “You’re too good for Wilson.”

“I know,” said Cole. “That’s why I don’t want to work with him. So I’d appreciate it if you didn’t get fired.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” said Shaw and meant it more than she thought she would. Cole glanced at her, an odd gleam in his eye. “Don’t get all mushy on me,” she snapped and he grinned at her.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Attention returning back to the monitors again, Shaw bit out a curse as she watched Greer hurry past the doorman and into the building.

“I’d better get back,” she said and let herself out of the van before Cole could respond. She didn’t think Greer would be too pleased about her ditching her babysitting duties to hang out in a musty old van with Cole all day. So she hurried inside and hoped that he wouldn’t notice her slip back into the apartment behind him.

Despite taking the stairs two at a time, Greer still beat her there. Shaw was welcomed back to the apartment by the sounds of shouting. Her hand automatically reached for the gun concealed within her jacket, the other reaching for the door handle. But the door flew open before she could reach it and Groves stormed out, barging into her.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Shaw snapped, letting go of her gun and bracing herself for preventing Groves from getting past her.

“Get out of my way,” Groves hissed.

She made to move past Shaw, but Shaw gripped her forearm tightly, noticing for the first time the tears that were brimming in her eyes. Shaw looked past her then and saw Greer staring at them both coldly from within the apartment.

“Please,” Groves whispered.

Shaw glanced at her again and then nodded slightly, gesturing for Groves to move ahead of her. She shot Greer a look of her own before turning to follow Groves closely to the elevator. They rode it down to the parking garage in silence and Shaw wordlessly took the keys from Groves’ hand.

“What are you doing?”

“I know exactly what you need,” said Shaw and gestured for Groves to get in the passenger side. Shaw watched as she got in without protest and then switched off her earpiece without informing Cole where they were going. She ignored the fact that she was breaching standard protocol, just as she ignored the way Cole’s warning echoed in her head. She knew what she was doing.

At least that was what she told herself anyway.

*

The place was quiet, just as Shaw knew it would be. She led them both to the bar and made Groves sit down, ordering two shots of tequila from the barman.

“ _This_ is what you think I need?” Groves said sceptically.

Shaw shrugged. “At least I know where you are.”

The barman placed the two shots in front of them. “Leave the tab open,” Shaw said to him and pushed one of the shots over to Groves with the tip of her finger. “Drink up.”

Groves raised an eyebrow but choked back the drink without complaint. She spluttered as it went down her throat, water forming around the corners of her eyes.

Shaw smirked. “Why, Ms. Groves, you’re not as good at this drinking thing as you like to pretend, are you?”

She was rewarded with a glare and Groves defiantly throwing the second shot down her throat.

“Sam,” Groves said, slamming the empty glass down on the table and gesturing for the barman to pour her more.

“What?” said Shaw.

“Call me Sam,” she clarified. “Ms. Groves makes me sound like my mother.”

Shaw smirked at that but didn’t say anything. She didn’t like the idea of calling her by her given name though and, once again, Cole’s warning rang in her ears. She tried to ignore it, tried to block it out. And she found that she would give anything for a drink at that moment.

As if reading her thoughts, Groves pushed one of the refilled shots in her direction.

“Have a drink with me.”

“I’m working,” Shaw said, looking away and staring around at the near empty bar, suddenly thinking that this, perhaps, hadn’t been such a good idea after all.

Groves rolled her eyes and pushed the drink closer. “I’ll give you the night off.”

“Doesn’t work like that,” said Shaw, turning back to face her.

Groves shrugged and downed her third shot of the evening. She immediately snapped up the fourth and swallowed that down quickly as well. The mischievous look was back in her eyes and Shaw was glad of it. Anything to avoid discussing something remotely within the vicinity of her marriage problems. It wasn’t her business, she didn’t care and she was more than a little relieved at the silence that settled over them, only interrupted when Groves called for the barman to pour her more drinks.

"Easy," said Shaw as she watched the fifth and sixth go down in quick succession. Groves' eyes had turned glazed and she started to slump in her seat. "I think you should slow down, Ms. Groves. "

Shaw received another glare and rolled her eyes. "Fine," she sighed. "I think you've had enough, _Sam."_

“You’re the one that brought me here,” Groves countered. There was a slight slur to her words that only proved Shaw’s point further. But Shaw also didn’t prevent her from ordering another and watched as she slung that shot of tequila back with ease too.

If she were being honest, part of her wondered if the alcohol would make her more forthcoming. If Shaw got her drunk enough, would she spill more about what happened that night with HR? But part of her didn’t want to push too hard in case it closed Groves off for good, and then she would end up with no information and a less compliant client.

So instead she bit her lip and watched with increasing amusement as Groves struggled to hold her drink.

She considered, briefly, checking in with Cole, but thought better of it. She didn’t want to have to explain why she had never told him in the first place. He would ask, she knew he would. And she didn’t have an answer for him that would satisfy his curiosity or his suspicion. She didn’t even have an answer that would satisfy herself.

Suddenly, Groves pushed herself off her stool and headed to the corner of the room. Shaw followed her automatically, more than a little startled.

“What are you doing?” Shaw asked, eyes darting about the room. But it was just as empty as before, no sign of HR or anyone else threatening looking. Still, Shaw reached for the gun at her side, gripping it briefly to reassure herself that it was still there if needed.

“I wanna dance,” said Groves, heading for the jukebox in the corner that Shaw noticed for the first time. “Don’t you wanna dance?”

“No,” said Shaw flatly and cringed when Groves picked something fast and cheesy. Groves grinned at her as she turned back around and began swaying her hips in time to the music. Shaw rolled her eyes and retreated back to her barstool, watching Groves closely, she told herself, only because she was the principal and they were in an unsecure location.

It didn’t matter what Shaw told herself, however, because Groves noticed and the mischievous twinkle brightened in her eyes. The swaying of her hips became more sensual, her eyes locking with Shaw’s as she continued to keep in time with the music. Everything else fell away and, to Shaw, it felt like they were the only two people in the room. She swallowed thickly as the music changed from chirpy bass to slow and melodic, something she had never heard before but decided she liked instantly. Her entire body seemed to stiffen as Groves matched her movements to it and moved slowly towards her.

“Dance with me,” said Groves.

“I don’t dance,” Shaw said hoarsely.

Groves smiled and, for once, it wasn’t the usual smirk at Shaw’s expense, but something else. Something entirely for Shaw and her alone.

“I’ll teach you,” said Groves and took Shaw by the hand, tugging Shaw to her feet. Shaw didn’t know why she wasn’t resisting, why she was allowing herself to be pulled onto the dance floor as if _she_ were the one that had just downed seven shots of tequila. She felt drunk. Unlike herself and so very much like she was watching this from afar and not in control of the situation.

Groves guided Shaw’s hands so that they were resting lightly on her hips and swayed them both in time to the music. She was warm and soft and Shaw felt like her hands were burning. But she _still_ didn’t pull away.

“Relax,” said Groves, smiling slightly. “Sway your hips more.”

She placed her hands on Shaw’s hips, enticing her to move. It did nothing but cause Shaw to stumble forward slightly, bringing their bodies closer together. Shaw immediately let her go and moved away and the sudden distance between them seemed to bring her back to her senses.

“We should head back,” Shaw said, clearing her throat and wondering when her voice had started to sound less like her own and more unfamiliar, more _soft._

Groves nodded and didn’t protest, just headed back to the bar to pay her tab. Shaw watched her carefully, noted the way she stumbled slightly and had to hold onto the bar to keep herself upright. She was drunker than her little dancing session had led Shaw to believe and when Groves was finished, Shaw took her by the elbow, guiding her outside and back to the car, telling herself it was because she didn’t want to have to explain away any broken bones or cuts if she fell.

It was a lie, even she could see right through it. And her grip tightened as they stepped outside into the cool night air. Probably too tight, if the questioning look Groves shot her was anything to go by.

“Do we really have to go home?” Groves said playfully. “The night’s just getting started.”

“You’re drunk,” said Shaw, stopping them at the side of the car and fishing inside her pockets for the keys.

Groves leaned against the passenger door and watched her with a smirk on her face. “And whose fault is that?”

Shaw bit the inside of her cheek and didn’t say anything.

This was definitely _not_ a good idea.

What the hell had she been thinking? Clearly she hadn’t been or they wouldn’t be here. Had she not listened to _anything_ Cole had said? She had done the exact opposite of what he had told her. She wasn’t being careful. Nothing about this was careful and she was doing absolutely nothing about the way Groves was looking at her like...

“Where the fuck are the keys?” Shaw exclaimed angrily.

Groves smirked at her and leaned closer, reaching one arm around to Shaw’s back pocket and sliding her hand in. Shaw swallowed thickly as their lips became impossibly close and she couldn’t stop her eyes from darting downwards to look at them.

Shaw wanted to lean closer. With everything that she had, with every cell in her entire body, she wanted to lean closer and bring their lips together.

As if she _knew_ , Groves grinned and stepped back as she pulled the keys out of Shaw’s pocket and dangled them in front of her face.Shaw stared at them, the street lights reflecting off them dully, and she snatched them harshly from Groves’ hand and unlocked the door.

“Get in,” she ordered, her voice sounding strained. Groves complied almost immediately and Shaw slammed the door shut, sighing in relief.

_Should have listened to Cole_ , she thought angrily, shaking her head and wondering just what the hell it was she was doing.


	6. Chapter 6

"Where were you last night?" Cole's voice sounded accusing through the earpiece and Shaw was glad he couldn't see her face.

"Nowhere," she replied. "It doesn't matter."

Shaw kept her voice low, conscious of Groves still passed out on the couch. Maintaining a silent vigil, Shaw hadn't moved from her chair all night, telling herself it was because she was worried Groves would try to make an escape for it in her drunkenness. It was the boldest lie she had ever told herself and she was a fool if she thought she had this under control.

"Since when do you breach protocol?" Cole asked. There was definitely more anger than worry in his voice. Shaw didn't answer him, unsure of what to say. She wasn't sure what she _could_ say that wouldn't make this appear exactly as how it was. Which was dangerous and stupid and the exact opposite of what she and Cole had discussed in the van yesterday.

But a quiet voice in her head still said, _not since the last one._ She was starting to make a habit of this, a bad one at that, of completely disregarding the carefully thought out and maintained rules that Hersh had put in place. Maybe it was a sign, something - her own subconscious, perhaps - telling her it was time to get out of this business. That personal security was no longer for her.

It was a thought that had been itching away in the back of her head for a while, a question that she had been trying to  ignore ever since she had put a bullet in her last client: just what, exactly, was the point of all this? She was protecting people, helping them, yes, but part of her couldn’t help but think that it wasn’t enough. That it meant nothing in the end.

"Well," said Cole, either choosing to let it go or was biding his time to bring it up again when Shaw was least expecting it, "the caterers are here."

"What caterers?" Shaw asked, frowning.

"No idea," said Cole, "but the doorman's letting them up to your floor."

Shaw muttered a curse under her breath and turned to glare down at Groves. Shaw could tell by the stillness of her eyes and her even breathing that she was awake and listening.

"Find out," Shaw muttered and cut the connection.

Shaw felt a flash of irritation at the smile that appeared on Groves’ lips. Her eyes still shut, Groves shifted her body into a more comfortable position on the couch.

“Are you guarding me?” Groves asked, a hint of glee shining through the tiredness in her voice.

“No,” said Shaw sullenly, realising that was exactly what she was doing. But the way Groves said it made it sound like it was something illicit and inappropriate, that it wasn’t just a normal part of her job.

And it wasn’t.

Yes, she protected clients all the time, but this was the first time she had ever watched over one of them whilst they slept, _after_ Shaw had taken them out drinking the previous night. Another thing she had never done before.

“Rise and shine, princess,” Shaw snapped, using her irritation to mask the unsettled feeling sitting heavily in her stomach. “You want to tell me what the deal with the caterers is?”

“That’s not until Saturday,” Groves mumbled, hefting the blanket up over her head as if to shut out the rest of the world.

“It _is_ Saturday,” Shaw pointed out.

Groves sat up so suddenly then that Shaw almost missed it. But then Groves groaned loudly, clutching at her head tightly as she leaned back into the cushions.

"Enjoying the hangover?" Shaw asked, allowing a smirk to play on her face and enjoying the glare Groves sent her way.

"Are you sure it's Saturday?" Groves asked. Shaw nodded and watched in amusement as Groves did a few mental calculations. "Shit," she muttered.

It was the first time Shaw had heard her swear and she found she rather liked the rawness of it, the way it fell out of her mouth like a secret.

"You want to tell me what's going on?" Shaw asked,  feeling her annoyance creeping back in as the doorbell rang.

"Cocktail party," said Groves, this time fighting through the hangover and climbing to her feet. "For a few of Paul's friends and investors."

"No way," said Shaw, grabbing Groves' forearm tightly and preventing her from reaching the door. "Anyone could walk in here."

"Relax," said Groves, glancing down at the hand on her arm with a smile, "we've used these guys before."

"That's not the point," Shaw snapped,  letting go of Groves quickly when her earpiece chirped into life.

"Hersh says they're having a party," Cole informed her.

Shaw didn't acknowledge him, but Groves was looking at her like she knew what he was saying anyway.

"He also says it's to go ahead," Cole added.

"Why didn't we know about this sooner?" Shaw asked angrily.

"I don’t know," said Cole. "What are you going to do?"

Shaw didn't think there was anything she could do. If this was what the client wanted, then that was what the client would get, whether Shaw liked it or not.

Groves was still staring at her expectantly and Shaw nodded for her to answer the door, one hand wrapping around the gun kept loosely in the waistband of her jeans.

"I hardly think that's necessary," said Groves.

"I'll be the judge of that," Shaw muttered and looked through the peephole before allowing Groves to open the door. They _looked_ like caterers,  but Shaw wouldn't put it past HR to disguise themselves in order to get closer to Groves, especially now that she and her husband were wary and on high alert.

"Have we vetted the guest list?" Shaw asked Cole, watching Groves carefully as she led the caterers into the kitchen.

"I think Hersh is dealing with it," he answered. Shaw didn't like the sound of that, something about the way Cole said it sounded off. But she didn't question him on it, instead she cut the connection again. Something she had been doing a lot lately,  she noted absently, making sure Cole couldn’t overhear what was going on. She wondered if he had noticed, and thought that he probably had. He wasn’t stupid, he was smart and resourceful and could probably see right through her bullshit and lies.

But there was nothing Shaw could do about it if it was bothering him and she decided to forget about it for now, heading into the kitchen herself.

The caterers wasted no time at making themselves at home and getting their stuff set up. They looked like they had their own way of doing things, but it didn't stop Groves from ordering them about and telling them exactly what she wanted. There was no trace of her earlier hangover and Shaw found herself becoming more than a little impressed at the quiet authority Groves subjected on the staff, the way she commanded them flawlessly without them even realising they were being ordered about.  It reminded Shaw of an old general from back when she was in the Marines, who used his commanding presence, rather than the loudness of his voice, to relay his orders.

"Uh, what am I supposed to do with this?" asked one of the catering staff, gingerly pulling a gun out of the fridge.

Shaw moved towards him quickly and snatched it from his hand.

"It's for practical reasons," Shaw muttered, conscious of everyone staring at her. She shoved the gun in her waistband, elbow sticking out and knocking a silver tray off the kitchen counter. It landed on the floor with a ringing clatter that seemed to last forever.

Groves stepped forward and picked it up, placing it carefully back on the counter.

"Perhaps you should remove the other weapons you have hidden around my house," Groves said quietly as the caterers got back to work.

Shaw scowled. "I don't-"

"I don't want the guests finding them," Groves said firmly. "Besides," she added with a smirk, "you're kind of in the way."

The scowl turned into a glare but it only made Groves grin more.

"Fine," Shaw muttered and shot the catering crew one last dark look before disappearing off to collect up her guns.

She didn’t remove them all from their hiding places though. Some she kept carefully hidden, just in case. Old habits and all that. And she didn't think Groves would notice or that her guests would find them unless they were deliberately snooping about. The ones she did remove she placed back in her room and she had the sudden urge to start cleaning them again. That was another old habit; cleaning her guns almost obsessively whenever she got bored on a job.

That was how Groves found her about an hour later, sitting on the bed and cleaning her USP compact.

"Don't you knock?" Shaw grumbled.

Groves shrugged. "It's my house."

Shaw decided not to argue the point. It wasn’t worth the hassle. Instead she decided to do what she seemed to be doing a lot of lately,  which was ignoring Groves, and went back to concentrating on cleaning her gun. But Groves never made it easy for her and, this time,  she thrust a long thin box under Shaw’s nose.

"What the hell is this?" Shaw asked, putting her gun aside for the moment and taking the box.

"As cute as your usual ensemble is," said Groves,  smirking slightly, "you'll stand out like a sore thumb."

“Not a chance,” said Shaw, guessing what must be inside the box.

“Come on,” said Groves coyly, “it’s your favourite colour and I bet you scrub up nicely.”

Shaw chose to ignore that last comment and opened the box to reveal, what she had correctly assumed to be, a black dress.

“Surely you are used to blending in with a job like yours?” said Groves, watching Shaw intently as she took the dress out of the box and held it up in front of her with a scowl.

“Yes,” Shaw said slowly, “but usually I get some advanced warning first.”

Groves shrugged at that like it wasn’t her problem.

“Look, Ms -” Shaw began but then cut herself off at the glare she received. “Sam,” she corrected. “This party is a bad idea.”

“Your boss doesn’t seem to think so,” Groves said reasonably.

Shaw scowled at that and wondered what the hell Hersh was playing at, how long he had known about this cocktail party and why he hadn’t told her about it sooner.

“Shouldn’t you be getting acquainted with a toilet bowl right about now?” Shaw muttered darkly, tossing the dress onto the bed and folding her arms.

“I’m fine,” said Groves brightly, but Shaw thought it sounded slightly forced. “I can handle six shots of tequila.”

“It was seven,” Shaw said, “and you were completely out of it.”

Groves smiled and leaned in closer. Shaw swallowed at the invasion of her personal space and forced herself to remain still. She could smell the perfume Groves was wearing and wondered when she had put it on because she wasn’t wearing it last night. It was a stupid thought and Shaw mentally slapped herself for it.

“I wasn’t _that_ out of it,” Groves said, dropping her voice to a low husk that seemed to breeze across Shaw’s skin. “Not if our dance was anything to go by.”

Shaw glowered darkly. She had assumed ( _hoped_ ) Groves had forgotten about that and what had happened after. But clearly she hadn’t and now Shaw wasn’t quite sure where to go from here. She knew exactly where they _couldn’t_ go, despite how much she wanted to. And Shaw realised then that she had to put a stop to… whatever the hell this was before it got out of hand. The flirting, the innuendos, all of it, it all had to stop.

“Listen, Sam,” said Shaw, realising instantly that calling her by that name was a big mistake.

Groves smiled slyly and stepped away before Shaw could finish. “Party is at six,” she tossed over her shoulder as she left the room. “Don’t be late.”

*

Parties were not Sameen Shaw’s thing. She hated them almost as much as the inevitable small talk that came with them. She had already been subjected to it three times within the space of half an hour and had to think quick on her feet the first time she was asked who she was, muttering a vague “I’m a friend of Sam’s” before whoever it was took the hint and left her alone.

Usually, when she was off the clock and in situations like this, which was a rare occurrence because Shaw made sure that it was, she would fix her best glare permanently on her face. But Cole had informed her that Hersh was supposed to be making an appearance at some point and she didn’t dare let him find her glowering at the party guests. Besides, Greer was already shooting her dark looks from across the room. She wasn’t quite sure what she had done to piss him off, but she rather suspected it had something to do with last night, making her wonder just what, exactly, Sam had told him.

There wasn’t much she could do about it right now, not in a room full of people and with her boss on the way. So instead she ignored it and focused on scanning the room, taking careful note of each guest, sizing them up and assessing whether any of them could possibly be working for HR. It didn’t look like it and she quickly got bored, her eyes landing on one of the catering staff who now seemed to have the role of waiter, offering canapés to guests as they mingled with each other.

Shaw eyed the tray of food hungrily, realising she had skipped both breakfast and lunch. But she didn’t dare go over and help herself. She doubted Greer would approve. She was supposed to be blending into the background after all and, so far, she was doing a pretty good job of that.

Shaw shifted on her feet, fiddling with her dress. It was her size, it fitted perfectly in fact, but she wasn’t used to wearing that sort of thing and she couldn’t seem to stop feeling like there was something wrong with it.

An aging woman wearing expensive looking pearls passed just as Shaw was hitching up the front and she received a disapproving look for her efforts. Shaw scowled and figured she was safer staring at the food than letting out the acerbic comment that was on the tip of her tongue, itching to get out.

Her stomach growled loudly almost at the same time as a tray of food was pushed under nose. Shaw was about to tell the waiter to go away when she looked up and found Groves instead.

“You’re practically drooling,” she said with a playful smile. “Eat something before you eat my guests.”

“Funny,” Shaw grumbled but took the tray anyway, shoving a canapé into her mouth. It was good, _really_ good, and Shaw let out a moan of appreciation without thinking. She cringed at the cocked eyebrow on Groves’ face and swallowed it down quickly. “I’m hungry,” she muttered.

Groves grinned. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you breakfast is the most important meal of the day?”

“No,” Shaw said flatly, biting into another canapé.

Groves rolled her eyes. “Would you relax. No one here is going to try and kill me.”

“You don’t know that,” Shaw muttered, glowering about the room.

“Neither do you,” Groves pointed out.

_Yeah,_ Shaw thought, _which is kind of the problem._ She didn’t know anything about any of the guests because none of them had been checked out beforehand. Normally, if this sort of thing came up with a client, every single person in this room would have had a thorough background check and anyone with any priors, serious debts or anything else suspicious wouldn’t be allowed in. But tonight, they didn’t even have another PSO working. Just her and Cole outside in the van, and possibly Hersh if he showed up.

Shaw didn’t like it. Suddenly losing her appetite, she placed the tray on the nearest flat surface and fiddled with her dress again.

“I hate these stupid things,” she muttered. “They make it near impossible to conceal a weapon.”

“You’re carrying a gun right now?” Groves asked in surprise, slowly eyeing her up and down. It was more sensual than anything else, and Shaw suspected she was using the question as an excuse to check her out. “Where?”

“Don’t start,” Shaw grumbled.

“I was right, by the way,” Groves said coyly, ignoring Shaw’s annoyance.

“About what?” Shaw asked absently, not really caring all that much.

Groves leaned in closer to mutter in her ear. “You do clean up nicely.”

Shaw didn’t have anything to say to that, or any protests. Because, yeah, she did look good. _Damn_ good. Groves didn’t look too bad herself, and Shaw found her eyes wandering without her permission, taking in the blue dress Groves was wearing and appreciating more than a little of what she was seeing.

Shaw smirked when Groves stiffened beside her and, for a moment, she thought it was because she had managed to catch her off guard for once. But she quickly realised Groves’ attention was elsewhere and she glanced to the side, noticing an older man with grey hair moving through the crowd towards them.

On instinct, Shaw stepped in front of Groves and only relaxed when Groves touched her lightly on the arm.

“Ah, Samantha,” the man said in a broad British accent, “you’ve outdone yourself once again.”

“Thank you, John,” said Groves stiffly. There was no trace of her earlier playful demeanour. Everything about her stance was the prim and proper housewife. Shaw didn’t like it. It didn’t suit her, didn’t feel right somehow.

“And who’s this?” he asked, staring at Shaw with a mistrustful look. Shaw shot him one right back.

“Um, this is Shaw,” Groves said quietly. “My bodyguard.”

“Yes, I heard about that. Nasty business,” he said blandly as if he were talking about nothing more than a freak weather storm. “Still, that’s no excuse to neglect your guests. The Ashford’s have been without a drink for the last twenty minutes.”

“Right, of course,” said Groves, watching him warily as he moved off to speak to a large, bulging gentleman in an ill-fitting suit.

“You okay, Sam?” Shaw asked after a few moments, frowning when Groves had yet to move. Groves looked at her as if she were only noticing her for the first time, nodding absently. “Your father-in-law?” Shaw guessed.

Groves nodded, still looking a little unsettled. “I forgot he was going to be here.”

“He always like that?” Shaw asked, watching Groves carefully.

“Not always,” she said cryptically and disappeared into the throng, presumably, to get the Ashford’s more drinks.

Moving off to a quiet corner, Shaw clicked on her earpiece. “Hey, Cole, what have we got on John Greer?”

“Uh,” said Cole, his voice sounding thick like he was in the middle of eating something. “Not much. Why?”

“Just curious,” said Shaw, finding Greer senior easily in the crowd. “There’s just… something about him.”

“Well, I’ve got nothing on him,” said Cole. “But I have been doing a little more digging into Decima Technologies.”

“What did you find?” asked Shaw, knowing he wouldn’t have brought it up if he had nothing. She glanced around the room, double checking that neither of the Greer’s were anywhere near her.

“You remember how I told you Decima are good at breaking into the market with new tech first?” Cole said.

“Yeah,” said Shaw. “So?”

“So,” said Cole slowly, “I haven’t been able to find any original patents. Just a name that keeps appearing on them all.”

“What name?”

“Aquino,” said Cole. It meant nothing to Shaw and she frowned. “I don’t think they exist,” Cole continued. “And _if_ they do, I think it might just be a front.”

“Cole,” said Shaw carefully, unsure if she was understanding him correctly, “are you saying Decima are stealing their technology?”

“Maybe,” said Cole hesitantly. “I’m not sure.”

“Well that would certainly piss someone off,” Shaw said. Although she couldn’t think where the connection to HR came in and what it had to do with Groves who hadn’t worked for Decima in two years.

“I may have found something else,” Cole said.

“What?”

“Well, don’t tell anyone, but I’ve managed to hack into Decima’s mainframe.”

“And?” said Shaw.

“Their latest project,” said Cole. “The name Aquino again.”

Well that told Shaw nothing. “Maybe you should try-”

“Whoa,” said Cole suddenly.

“What?” said Shaw when he didn’t elaborate any further. “Cole, what’s going on?”

“Uh… this project,” said Cole, his voice slightly higher, telling Shaw that he was starting to panic. “It’s government endorsed.”

Shaw frowned. “Government?”

“I think it’s the Pentagon,” Cole added. “Shaw, I don’t think we should be looking at this.”

“Cole-” Shaw began, but then saw Hersh moving towards her and immediately cut the connection.

“Shaw,” he said by way of greeting. “Nice dress.”

Shaw rolled her eyes. “Checking up on me?”

“Of course not,” said Hersh, swallowing a mouthful of champagne from the glass in his hand. “I trust you.”

“Do you?” said Shaw sceptically. “Then tell me what’s going on.”

“Need to know, Shaw,” Hersh said. “And you don’t.”

“Bullshit,” Shaw said. “There’s more going on here than some boring housewife needing protection.”

“Well that boring housewife speaks very highly of you,” Hersh said. Shaw knew it was an attempt at changing the subject, but she couldn’t help but be stuck on his words. She wanted to know what Groves had said, word for word, with a burning need that was stifling in its intensity.

But Shaw didn’t ask. She didn’t dare.

“Just keep doing what you’re doing, Shaw,” said Hersh, “and don’t worry about anything else.”

But that was the problem. She couldn’t help but worry. And Hersh’s evasiveness coupled with what Cole had just found out only seemed to make it worse.

Nothing about this entire situation felt right and it only made her want to stick to Sam even closer.

And that’s exactly what Shaw did, bidding Hersh goodbye and going off in search of her, finding her in the hallway, away from all the guests and catering staff, having a discussion with Greer. This time it was the junior version, and he had one arm wrapped around her waist, keeping her close. Shaw couldn’t hear what they were saying, but whatever it was, it looked like Greer was trying to comfort her. He leaned in close, kissing Sam softly on the lips.

Something burned deep within Shaw then, harsh and never ending, making her feel nauseous. It was worse than any gunshot wound she had ever had, unfamiliar and strange. She couldn’t explain it and wanted it gone.

She thought she was being silent, still and in the shadows, but she must have done something to reveal her presence because Sam broke the kiss and turned to face her, an odd look on her face when her eyes landed on Shaw.

“Sorry, I didn’t –” Shaw began, her voice sounding hoarse and far away. In fact, she was surprised she could even speak at all and she didn’t think she could say anything else even if she had wanted to.

So she didn’t, instead pushing past them both and heading determinedly into her room. She tried to control her pace, keep her movements casual even though all her instincts were urging her to run.

Even in the safety of her room, the sensation was still there. Shaw leant heavily against the door, exhaling loudly as she banged her head against it. She hated it, all of this. The job that was getting more and more cryptic with every new piece of information, the way Hersh claimed to still trust her and yet was keeping secrets that prevented her from doing her job properly.

And Sam.

She hated this… _thing_ with Sam. This thing she no longer seemed able to control, despite her best efforts.

This thing that seemed to consume her with every waking moment.

It had to stop. She had to make it stop. Except she wasn’t sure _how_ , exactly, she was supposed to do that.


	7. Chapter 7

Hiding in her room was probably one of the more childish and ridiculous things Shaw had ever done, but the thought of going out there and facing all those guests made her sick to her stomach. And the thought of Sam being her usual flirtatious self (or worse, being overly flirty with her _husband_ ) left Shaw feeling cold.

It wasn’t something she was willing to experience anytime soon, so she busied herself with tidying up a room that was already pristine. It didn’t take Shaw long to realise she was essentially just moving her stuff from one corner to another, but at least it gave her the illusion of keeping busy. It didn’t stop her mind from working though and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop thinking about what she had seen in the hallway. The image seemed to replay itself over and over again, leaving Shaw with an unsettled feeling that she couldn’t – and didn’t want to - explain.

Shaw thought it would be easy to ignore it, that sleeping on it might leave her feeling refreshed and back to normal. That it would slip away along with any dreams that she might have and never remember. She realised just how wrong she was about that, how foolish for thinking she could control it, when Groves walked into her room (at least she had knocked this time, Shaw thought ruefully) a few hours later.

“Would you mind?” Groves asked, turning around and exposing the zip on the back of her dress.

Shaw stayed where she was, gritting her teeth. “Why don’t you ask your husband?”

“He’s showing the last of the guests out,” Groves said, smiling shyly over her shoulder. “Please?” she added when Shaw still hadn’t moved.

Sighing heavily, and mostly because she wanted her out of her room, Shaw moved forward, intending to roughly pull the zip down as quickly as possible. But the damn thing was stiff and Shaw fumbled with it for a moment, her fingers brushing across exposed skin. Sam shivered and Shaw tried to tell herself it was because of the temperature in the room (Shaw kept the heating off in whatever room she slept in so it was practically freezing in here) and not because of anything else - that thought was too dangerous to hope for.

Finally, she got the zip down, revealing pale, smooth flesh. Shaw stared, her fingertips lingering on warm skin. Time seemed to stand still, reminding Shaw of those occasions during the marines, when time seemed to stop as she readied a deadly shot, those split second decisions she made as a resident, someone's life in her hands. Both experiences had a certain thrill about them, different and unique. But now, with Sam just _there_ , it was a different kind of thrill still, adrenaline rushing through her veins, her heart beating a concert and Shaw found it almost difficult to breathe.

She wanted to know what Sam was thinking, if she was keenly aware of this feeling, this _reaction,_ Shaw was having, if her entire world, her whole existence, had narrowed down to just this experience as well.

Dropping her hand as if suddenly realising it was burning,  Shaw stepped back, deep into the shadows of the room, struggling to control her erratic breathing and racing heart. Sam turned around, holding her dress up with one hand. Her cheeks were flushed and she looked like she was having trouble breathing as well, her lips parted slightly as she sucked more air in. Shaw found herself staring at them and forced herself to look away.

“Here,” she said to distract herself, snatching up her dress from the bed and shoving it into Sam’s hand.

Sam stared at it for a moment before carefully placing it back on the bed. “Keep it,” she said. “Black isn’t really my colour.”

Shaw sighed, because even that gesture felt like a step over the line. Accepting “gifts” from clients was against the rules but, somehow, Shaw suspected Hersh would be more pissed about the open flirting than anything else. She didn’t try to protest it though, because that would just result in Sam hanging around for even longer and Shaw was more than a little relieved when she eventually left Shaw in peace, but not before flashing Shaw a suggestive grin on her way out, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

*

“Hanging out in your musty old van again?”

Shaw said nothing and continued tying her boots up. As predicted, sleeping on it hadn’t helped. Not that she had slept much at all and when she did, she was haunted by dreams that left her too hot, thrumming with electricity and in dire need of a cold shower. And if she found it difficult to look Sam in the eye that morning, Shaw pretended it was nothing out of the ordinary.

“What do you do out there all day anyway?” Sam asked.

Shaw shrugged, finding it more and more difficult to ignore her as she slid her arms into her hoodie and zipped it all the way up to the top. It was cold outside and Cole was always stingy with the heating, so the extra layers would help.

“Stay inside,” Shaw said snappishly, snatching up her coat and stepping carefully past Sam.

“Don’t worry,” said Sam and Shaw could practically hear the smirk in her voice, “you’ll be the first to know if I decide to go out.”

Cole was bright eyed and cheery, much to Shaw’s disgust, when she hopped inside the back of the van.

“Rough night?” he asked, tongue caught between his teeth as he grinned at her.

Shaw glowered but it did nothing to wipe the amusement from his face.

“How was the party?” he continued, heedless of her warning look. “Did you have a good time?”

“Full of pretentious asshats,” Shaw grumbled. “So no.”

“Well, at least you had Hersh to keep you company,” Cole said absently, the grin finally falling from his face as he returned his attention back to the laptop balancing on his knees.

“Don’t remind me,” said Shaw, still bitter about Hersh’s vagueness.

“Is that a touch of resentment I hear in your voice?” Coles asked.

Shaw gritted her teeth. “Are you planning on chewing my ear off the whole day?” she snapped. “Just so I know if I should start tuning you out now.”

“Wow,” said Cole, “someone’s grumpy this morning. Well… more than usual.”

“Cole,” Shaw said, low and threatening.

Cole rolled his eyes and sighed. “I was just about to head out for some coffee before you appeared. You want something?”

Knowing this was Cole’s attempt at a peace offering, Shaw only stared at him blankly.

“Maybe the caffeine will make you less moody,” he muttered.

Shaw’s look hardened, but she kept the acidic comeback she had to herself. Arguing with Cole always resulted in a bitter cycle, neither one of them willing to give in and only stopping when they got too busy to continue or Hersh intervened. The arguing never resulted in any long term resentment though. They were good at that at least. They both learned from it, which buttons to avoid pushing at the wrong moment, and always ensuring never to go too far. It was what made them such a good team, even if he did get on Shaw’s nerves more often than not. But, then again, so did most people. Cole was just the lesser of two evils, most of the time.

“Get me a large one,” Shaw said resignedly, unable to hold back a yawn. “Extra shot.”

Cole smiled as he opened the back to door to the van. “I’ll even bring you back a bear claw.”

Shaw watched as he jumped out the back and closed her eyes in blessed relief at the silence that followed.

“Oh,” Cole added, popping his head back in annoyingly. “Don’t mess with the heater.”

Shaw scowled.

“I wasn’t planning to,” she lied and Cole looked at her sceptically before slamming the door shut.

It was freezing in the van and Shaw rubbed her hands together in an attempt to heat them up. Winter seemed to be coming in full force, yet there still was no sign of a drop of snow. Shaw was glad of that. Snow was a pain in the ass and a bitch to run on. She was grateful when Cole reappeared about ten minutes later and quickly wrapped her hands tightly around the cup of steaming coffee he handed her.

“Would it kill you to turn the heat up?” she muttered as she tried not to shiver, knowing that it was due to her imagination more than anything.

“The heater requires turning the engine on,” Cole explained for what, Shaw was sure, had to be at least the hundredth time since she had known him. “And turning the engine on wastes gas and produces unnecessary carbon dioxide.”

Shaw rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe you’re worried about your goddamn carbon footprint right now.”

“You can never be too conscientious,” Cole said condescendingly.

“Whatever,” Shaw muttered, taking a long sip of coffee. It burnt her tongue, but she didn’t mind all that much. “You find anything more about Greer?”

“Not really,” Cole said hesitantly.

Shaw raised an eyebrow and decided to wait him out. He’d cave in eventually if she stared at him long enough. But she couldn’t help but remember the tinge of fear that had been in his voice last night after he had hacked into Decima. She still wasn’t sure what a government endorsed project had to do with anything, how it connected to Groves and HR.

Eventually, Cole sighed heavily. “Whoever this Greer is,” he said slowly, “the name looks like an alias.”

“You think he was covert ops?” Shaw asked.

“MI5, MI6… something,” Cole said. “Whatever it was, it was a long time ago.”

Shaw said nothing for a while, pondering this new information and deciding that, even though it gave her no more clues as to what was going on, she still didn’t like it.

“There’s something else you should know,” Cole added after a while. “About Hersh.”

“What?” said Shaw, not liking the way he was fiddling nervously with the lid of his coffee cup.

“I think he might know what Decima’s government project is.”

“How?” asked Shaw in disbelief. Although, now that she thought about it, Hersh _was_ making nice with some of those Decima investors last night. At the time she had thought he was just trying to drum up some new business. Now she wasn’t so sure. “Cole?” said Shaw when he continued to say nothing.

Cole sighed, worrying at his lip with his teeth. “You know my skill set, Shaw,” he began, his voice almost accusing as he said it, as if he thought Shaw should have been able to work this out on her own.

“Former CIA analyst... amongst other things,” Shaw said, struggling to remember exactly. She didn’t need to know in detail his career history. All that she needed to know was that he could to his job.

Cole nodded. “Ever wonder why I got into this business?”

Shaw shrugged. “Same reason we all did? Because you needed a job?”

Cole shook his head and Shaw frowned. “Not exactly,” he said. “I met Hersh because he recruited me for something else. Some top secret government program.”

“What program?” Shaw asked, not sure if she believed him or if Cole was just messing with her.

“I don’t know,” said Cole. “The project fell through and about six weeks later, Hersh called me up and offered me a job working personal security.”

Shaw shook her head, still unsure of what he was getting at. “What does this have to do with Decima?”

“I have no idea,” said Cole. “But Hersh still has connections. I think he might be involved in this project.”

“Then why not just tell us?” Shaw asked. “Why all the secrets and running around babysitting bored housewives?”

“Maybe he’s not allowed to tell us,” Cole suggested.

Shaw didn’t know. Either way, she didn’t like it. And she wondered just what job Hersh had in mind when he had first recruited her.

“Hey,” she said suddenly, feeling the need to change the subject, “where’s my bear claw?”

Cole rolled his eyes and reached down for the bag he had dumped at his feet when he had gotten back into the van. Shaw snatched it from him eagerly, biting almost angrily into the pastry when she had it free. She had skipped breakfast again that morning. It was becoming a habit with this job, skipping meals so she didn’t have to sit across a table from Groves and, occasionally, her husband and make small talk. So she either gave them a miss or waited until they had both finished before grabbing something for herself.

They sat in silence for a while until Cole got bored and started suggesting they play a game. Shaw, naturally, adamantly refused that suggestion, and instead finished the incomplete crosswords in Cole’s puzzle book, much to his annoyance.

But hiding out in the van was no better than hiding out in her room and eventually she knew that she couldn’t keep doing it. It was getting late and she figured it was about time she put an appearance in back at the house. Shaw bid Cole goodbye and left him to his freezing cold van, enjoying in the warmth that hit her as soon as she was inside the apartment building.

Taking the stairs, not just for the exercise but to warm herself up, Shaw made it up to the apartment a little breathless. Not for the first time, she was met with the sound of arguing from within. Shaw rolled her eyes, hoping she could just slip past them both unnoticed.

She wasn’t so lucky.

They were both too focused on their argument to notice Shaw and, try as she might, Shaw couldn't make herself walk away and leave it alone. She knew it was none of her business, but she still hesitated as the argument seemed to escalate with an intensity so swift that Shaw almost missed it. She was too far away to intervene, but she saw the hand that came up and smacked Sam hard across the face. And, like last night, time seemed to stop again. But, this time, the adrenaline was pumping through her veins for another reason.

Shaw stepped forward quicker and with more force than she thought was possible, grabbing Greer by the wrist. Twisting his arm up behind him, Shaw slammed him into the wall hard, relishing in the grunt of pain it produce. Greer was heavier and bigger than her, but Shaw still had him trapped with ease.

A potent rage seemed to blind all her senses, filling her up and making her think of nothing but how much she wanted to twist his arm up so far until the bone snapped. It was unsettling, how much it felt like she couldn’t control it.

Anger was nothing new to Shaw, but she had never quite felt it like this before.

“I don’t pay you to manhandle me,” Greer snapped, but Shaw could hear the strain in his voice.

“No, you pay me to protect your wife,” Shaw hissed into his ear. “That includes from you.”

Shaw let him go before she did something stupid, her gun feeling heavy as it sat in her coat pocket. When she turned around, Sam was nowhere in sight and for one fleeting moment, Shaw felt something almost akin to panic stir unpleasantly within her stomach before she reminded herself that Sam had probably just retreated into her room.

“I don’t expect you to understand,” Greer said behind her.

Shaw clenched her jaw, letting out a heavy breath as she turned around to face him again. “Is that so?” she said tightly, barely suppressing the anger in her voice.

“My wife and I, we haven’t…” He was looking at his feet and Shaw suspected he was talking to himself more than her. Maybe he was trying to justify what he did, trying to make himself feel better, in a way. Shaw thought that was a load of bull and quickly calculated the fastest way to shut him up. It involved her gun and she only stilled her hand because of the thought of how pissed not only Hersh would be if she shot another client, but Carter as well (who would not be happy about having to bail her out again.)

“She doesn’t touch me, talk to me,” Greer continued pathetically. “She doesn’t even look at me.”

“And that justifies you hitting her?” Shaw snapped.

"You've never been married before, have you?"

"What the hell does that have to with anything?" Shaw asked. There was a self-righteous glint to Greer's look that told Shaw he felt no remorse, no guilt for what he had done.

"There are certain expectations within a marriage," Greer said.

"I pretty sure those expectations don't involve beating your wife," Shaw spat.

Greer let out a humourless laugh. "See? You don't understand."

"One thing I _do_ understand," Shaw said coldly, more menacing than she had ever been before,  "you touch her again and I'll put a bullet in you."

Shaw meant it with everything in her and she knew she wouldn't be aiming for a kneecap or a shoulder. That bullet was going right between the eyes.

Forcing herself to leave before she gave into the temptation, Shaw went in search of Sam and found her in the en-suite bathroom off her bedroom. It wasn’t until then, stepping through the room with women's clothes and belongs strewn about the place, no sign of any male presence, that Shaw realised Sam and her husband no longer shared a bed. If they ever did in the first place.

“You okay?” Shaw asked quietly, watching Sam as she leaned both hands against either side of the sink, staring at herself in the mirror.

Sam shrugged, turning around as Shaw moved over to take a closer look. Her bottom lip had split, but it looked like it had stopped bleeding. Shaw held her chin loosely in one hand, brushing her thumb gently over the wound without thinking.

“It looks okay,” Shaw murmured, “but you should put some ice on it to keep the swelling down.”

Sam smirked but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I love it when you play doctor.”

Dropping her hand quickly, Shaw took a step back, thinning her lips in annoyance over Sam’s flippancy. She didn’t buy it for one second and wished Sam would, for once, just stop trying to pretend everything was fine when it wasn’t.

“This the first time he’s done this?” Shaw asked, crossing her arms tightly. “Sam?” she added when she didn’t get an answer. It seemed to snap her out of whatever daze she was in, and Sam cast her eyes upwards to look at Shaw. “Has it occurred to you that your husband might be the one trying to kill you?” Shaw asked.

Sam exhaled a humourless laugh. “He doesn’t have the guts to kill someone.”

But Shaw wasn’t so sure of that. It made her want to get Sam out of the house, far away from her husband as possible until they could prove his guilt or innocence either way. But more than anything it made her want to confront Greer, put her gun to his head and demand he tell her what he was up to, why he was so secretive with that study of his and just what, exactly, his company was involved in.

She didn’t do any of that though. She reigned in the anger, wrapped it up tightly like a spring, knowing that if she didn’t find a way to release it carefully soon, it would burst from her like an explosion.

When Sam continued to stand there indifferently as if nothing had happened to her, giving Shaw nothing more than her usual, and if somewhat more forced this time, playful attitude, Shaw felt the urge to walk out. She wasn’t sure what, but she was expecting _something_ more than this from Sam. Part of her seemed to need it, some sort of confirmation that Sam really was okay, and when she didn’t get it, Shaw felt her anger flare again.

Maybe Sam sensed that anger in her, because she grabbed onto Shaw’s hand when she tried to storm out. Not expecting it, Shaw let herself be pulled back in. She also wasn’t expecting the press of Sam’s lips against hers and she found her hands gripping onto Sam’s hips tightly without her even having to think about it.

All of Shaw’s senses seemed to be filled with Sam, cloying in the intensity of the smell of her perfume and the feel of her lips. Even the taste of her was excruciating, the dried blood on Sam’s lip metallic and warm. Shaw dug her fingers deeper into Sam’s hips, pushing her backwards into the sink. It elicited a moan from Sam’s mouth, echoing in Shaw’s ears and reminding her of what they were doing like a knock over the head.

Shaw pulled away quickly, retreating as far as possible, fighting to get her breathing under control and ignoring the arousal that thrummed through her entire body.

“I-” Shaw began, averting her eyes as Sam stared at her. Shaw wiped the back of her hand against her mouth, the ghost of Sam’s touch still tingling pleasantly. “That-”

But try as she might, Shaw couldn’t think what to say. All she knew was that she had to get out of there before this went any further, before she stepped forward and pressed her lips hungrily against Sam’s again like she so desperately wanted to do.

Ignoring whatever Sam called to her as she fled the small bathroom, Shaw, like she was doing a lot lately and starting to make a habit out of, retreated into her bedroom to hide.

*

“You’re leaving?”

Morning hadn’t left her feeling any less unsettled over everything that had happened. Not that Shaw had slept much. But she had made a decision and one that she was determined to stick to no matter what Sam said to try and convince her otherwise.

Shaw shoved the last of her stuff in the large duffel bag on the bed, her back still to Sam. It felt easier somehow, not being able to see her.

“What happened last night was inappropriate,” Shaw said, trying to keep her voice firm and neutral. “It shouldn’t have happened. I’m your bodyguard.”

“Personal security officer,” Sam corrected and Shaw could hear the smirk in her voice.

“This is isn’t a joke, Sam,” Shaw snapped, turning around. Sam was standing just inside the threshold, her arms crossed. The cut on her lip stood out against her pale skin, as did the bruise slowly forming on her cheek. Shaw forced herself to look away. “I can’t do my job if I’m…”

“If you’re what?” Sam asked.

Shaw bit her lip and determinedly stared at the floor. But she knew Sam was just going to keep pushing until she got an answer and she sighed resignedly. “If I’m distracted,” Shaw muttered.

“I distract you?” Sam said delightedly, if not a little mockingly. Shaw rolled her eyes.

“Cole’s going to keep an eye on you until Hersh can send someone else over,” Shaw explained. “Besides, it doesn’t look like there is much of a threat left, anyway.” She wasn’t sure how much of that she believed, but HR hadn’t made a move in the several weeks that Shaw had been here, for whatever reasons, and she felt sure that the danger had passed.

“I don’t want someone else,” Sam implored. “I want you.”

Shaw looked at her sharply, wondering if there was an intentional double meaning there. If there was, it only proved her point of why this had to stop now. Shaw said nothing and grabbed up her bag, leaving before Sam could say or do anything else that would further weaken Shaw’s resolve.

It was still freezing outside, but Shaw found she didn’t mind the cold all that much this time. Cole was in his usual place inside the van, the heating off and a cup of steaming coffee in his hand.

“You call Hersh?” Shaw asked, staring at the monitors that showed the front entrance of Sam’s apartment building. All was normal, nothing out of the ordinary. Same as always.

“He’s sending Wilson over later,” Cole said slowly. “You want to tell me what happened?”

Shaw said nothing for a moment, still staring at the screens until she forced herself to look away. “Nothing,” she said. “I just got tired of this job.”

Cole looked at her sceptically before shaking his head and looking away. “Why her?” he asked, his voice strained slightly, as if he were finding it difficult to speak.

Shaw heard the _and why not me_ that Cole left unsaid and her heart skipped a beat. She had always suspected Cole felt _something_ more than what was required of a working partnership, but she had never done anything to encourage or dissuade it.

“I don’t know,” Shaw said quietly. And she didn’t. She didn’t understand why Samantha Groves, of all people, had gotten under her skin like this when no one else had, when she thought it wasn’t even possible that anyone could.

Cole didn’t push her further on the subject and, for that, Shaw was grateful.

As she left the van, Shaw couldn’t help but glance up at the apartment building. She forced herself to walk away, thinking that this was the last time she would see the place, and Sam, ever again.


	8. Chapter 8

It was good to be back at her own place, with her own bed, her own kitchen and meal schedule. It didn’t take Shaw long to get back into her normal routine: up promptly at six thirty for a morning run, picking up breakfast from the coffee place at the end of the block on her way back. But currently with no new job (Hersh was suspiciously hard to get a hold of these days) Shaw quickly got bored. Working out, cleaning her guns, even scouring the net for new recipes - all her usual methods for alleviating boredom, for clearing her mind, didn’t seem to be working.

And there was only one thing she couldn’t stop thinking about. Eating away at her during both her waking hours and in her dreams.

She couldn’t stop thinking about _that_ kiss. Couldn’t stop thinking about Sam and the look on her face when Shaw had walked out.

It had been three days. Three days and the memory of it was still fresh in her mind, her lips still tingling at the thought of Sam’s mouth pressed against hers.

Shaw thought it would have been better by now, that the feeling, the _urge_ to go back, to press her lip against Sam’s hungrily once again, would have gone. She thought that the need would not be burning still deep within her until that was all that she was, until there was nothing else left.

But it stayed and only seemed to get stronger with every passing day that she tried to ignore it. Resisting it didn’t seem to be helping. Taking matters into her own hands - so to speak - hadn’t helped either, no matter how good her imagination was, replaying the images from her dreams again in her head.

After a week had passed, when she still didn’t have a new job and Hersh was continuing to dodge her phone calls (conveniently always in a meeting, or so his secretary had informed Shaw) when she was bored out of her mind with nothing to fill it but the ghost of a kiss against her lips and what might-have-beens, Shaw gathered up her favourite gun and headed down to the firing range. It had been too long since she had shot at anything and she was looking forward to the smell of burnt gunpowder again.

Shaw had barely emptied a magazine - firing furiously and enjoying the bang and recoil it produced - when she could feel a presence behind her. Not turning around, Shaw fired the last two rounds and hit the button that kicked in the motor to bring the target forward. She put her few dodgy shots down to lack of practice and took out her ear plugs.

“You got a permit for that?”

Shaw smirked, removing the empty magazine as she turned around to find Carter leaning against the opposite wall with her arms folded as she watched her.

“I don’t think you want to know the answer to that,” said Shaw and inserted a fresh magazine into her weapon. The company of other people wasn’t something Shaw usually craved but today she couldn’t stand the thought of being alone with her thoughts. So she had sent Carter a quick text, not really expecting a reply, and invited her along.

Carter shrugged and pushed herself off the wall. “I got more info on your case,” she said, holding up a manila folder.

Shaw stiffened slightly, but didn’t think Carter had noticed.

“It’s not my case anymore,” Shaw muttered, placing her weapon down carefully and lifting up a spare set of goggles and ear plugs. “I quit that job.”

“Then why-” Carter began, but paused when Shaw thrust the safety equipment in her hands.

“Come on,” said Shaw with a smirk as Carter raised an eyebrow at her. “Worried I’ll beat you?”

Smiling, Carter took the goggles and earplugs. “Yeah, that’s never gonna happen,” she said, pulling her back-up piece out of its ankle holster.

Shaw stared at it for a moment, her mouth hanging open slightly as Carter continued to grin at her.

“Is that the new nano?” Shaw asked enviously.

“Uh-huh,” said Carter. “Haven’t had the opportunity to take it out for a test run yet. So this should be fun.”

“Don’t think your new toy is going to help you win,” said Shaw, smirking as she picked up her gun again.

“Why do you always have to turn everything into a competition?” Carter asked.

Shaw shrugged, deciding to ignore the slightly harder edge to Carter’s voice that hadn’t been there before. She could feel a lecture coming on if she pushed the matter further so chose to ignore Carter’s comment for now.

Firing a few more rounds seemed to take the edge off a bit, and Shaw could feel her frustration ebb away as she concentrated on hitting the target. There was still something there though, sitting below the surface, still eating away at her. Something she couldn't ignore.

Shaw fired the last of the bullets in her gun more rapidly than before. It was almost wild and her trigger finger ached afterwards.

There was a smirk playing across Carter’s face as the paper targets moved towards them. All of Carter’s bullets had hit dead centre. So had most of Shaw’s apart from her last few errant rounds.

“Gotta update your arsenal, Shaw,” Carter said lightly.

“Whatever,” Shaw muttered darkly, tossing her spent weapon down and pulling her goggles off aggressively.

She could feel Carter watching her carefully, knew that she was picking up on every little movement, filing it away and analysing it for later. It made Shaw want to snap at her, yell her to stop being a goddamn cop for five minutes.

But Carter knew her all too well. She knew when to push and when to let go and, this time, she let it go.

Part of Shaw wished she wouldn’t. Part of her wanted to be called out on her strange behaviour. Maybe that way, she could start to make sense of this whole thing. Because she certainly couldn’t make sense of it on her own.

“What have you got on the Groves case?” Shaw asked casually.

Even though she was turned the other way, Shaw could sense the sceptical look on Carter’s face, that she was probably seeing right through Shaw’s faked casualness. Shaw wondered if it was the cop in her or if she had just come to know her that well. Either way, it didn’t sit well with Shaw. She wanted to keep it hidden, wanted to keep whatever this _thing_ that was burning inside of her to herself.

“It looks like the hit was HR,” Carter said eventually. “But I haven’t been able to find out who ordered it.”

“Have you tried looking into the husband?” Shaw suggested, removing the empty magazine and began stripping her gun down. She remembered a hand smacking hard against flesh and felt her anger swell within her.

“It’s not my case,” Carter said, crossing her arms and looking at her steadily. “Thought it wasn’t yours either.”

Shaw shrugged. Yeah, it wasn’t her case anymore and part of her wondered if it ever truly was, not with the way Hersh had kept her out of the loop. But even though she had quit, even though she had walked out, Shaw still couldn’t stop thinking about it. And not just about that kiss (that didn’t seem to want to stop replaying itself in her head anytime soon) but about when HR might strike again, when Groves, when Wilson and whoever else Hersh now had protecting her, least expected it. That thought alone made the burning in her gut flare, harsher than anything she had ever known.

“Wanna get out of here?” Shaw said suddenly. “Go for a drink?”

She looked at Carter carefully then and knew from the slight curve of surprise to her mouth that she had understood what Shaw was really asking.

“I’m seeing someone,” said Carter.

“Since when?” Shaw blurted and snapped her mouth shut at the hardened edge to Carter’s look.

“I don’t sit around waiting for you to call, you know,” Carter said, her voice tight and clipped as she slipped her nano back into its ankle holster angrily.

“I know,” said Shaw sullenly. It felt like she was walking on thin ice, cracking rapidly underneath her feet, but she couldn’t seem to stop blundering on anyway. “Just didn’t think you had time for that sort of thing,” she muttered.

“Yeah,” said Carter forcefully, “well things change. Maybe if you called once in a while, you’d know that.”

Shaw sighed heavily, not entirely surprised by that comment. Things between her and Carter had been tense since, well…

“Fine,” said Shaw, trying to keep her voice sincere but suspecting that she was failing, “I should have called after that night.”

She remembered _that_ particular night rather well, and she smiled at the thought of it. It hadn’t been their first encounter, not by a long shot, but it was the first (and only) time they had gone back to Carter’s place. But something about that time had felt a little… _different._ Shaw didn’t know what it was. If it was the way Carter had seemed so relaxed and comfortable around her. Or maybe the way Shaw had been unexpectedly introduced to Carter’s kid like it was no big deal, that Carter brought home “friends” all the time.

It had unsettled Shaw so much that she had bailed the first chance she could get.

“It’s not the not calling that’s the problem,” Carter snapped, straightening herself and picking up her manila folder on the Groves case. “It’s the sneaking out in the middle of the night without a word from you for months until you need my help that’s the problem.”

Shaw remained silent. She had nothing to say that would justify her actions to Carter’s satisfaction. They had both been clear about their intentions from the start. Something easy and casual to blow off steam. Shaw had been content with that arrangement and so had Carter. Until Shaw had started dodging her calls.

It wasn’t until she had put a bullet in Edward Black, a thirteen year old girl lying naked and bleeding and crying beside him that Shaw had finally picked up her phone and called Carter.

But that time it had been for Carter’s help and not for anything else. And Shaw knew that things could have been a lot worse, that she could have been facing charges if it hadn’t been for Carter’s interference.

Shaw was grateful for that and it made the thought of what she had done, something she hadn’t considered before, weigh down heavily in her gut. It had been a shitty thing to do and Shaw had been an ass about it ever since. She could admit that to herself now, at least.

Carter deserved better too, Shaw thought. And it was that thought, she knew now, that had driven her away in the small hours of the morning in the first place.

“You’re right,” said Shaw quietly. Carter was looking at her in that unique way of hers. Disappointment mixed with reprimand. It made Shaw feel like a little kid who had been called to the principal’s office.

A sigh escaped Carter’s mouth and she rolled her eyes. “You still owe me breakfast,” she said lightly with the hint of a smile playing at her lips and Shaw knew, that regardless of what had happened between them, Carter wasn’t about to hold it against her.

“So,” said Shaw slowly, swaying on the balls of her feet casually, “about that drink...”

Carter raised an eyebrow at her. “Seriously?”

“What?” said Shaw innocently.

“Which part of ‘I’m seeing someone’ did you not get?”

Shaw shrugged. “So it’s serious between you and this mystery person?” Shaw asked, not that she cared, not really. She thought of Sam then, in her blue dress and sneaking away in the middle of a cocktail party to kiss her husband in a quiet hallway. That burning sensation returned and Shaw wondered if Carter could see it, could feel the discomfort as keenly as Shaw could.

“Maybe,” said Carter cautiously. She was looking at Shaw like how Shaw imagined she would look staring down an unsuspecting perp in the interrogation room. It was kind of intimidating, but Shaw knew Carter didn’t bite, no matter how loud and harsh her bark. It was kind of hot actually, but, once again, there was a flash of another kiss, heated and urgent, the tang of blood on Shaw’s tongue.

Carter narrowed her eyes, looking like she knew exactly what Shaw was thinking. “Oh, you _really_ need to get laid.”

Shaw opened her mouth, maybe to protest or maybe to tell Carter that was exactly why she had invited her down here. But she never got the words out. Maybe it was for the best, in the long run.

“And not with me,” Carter added firmly, thrusting the folder into Shaw’s hand. “I’ll see you around, Sam.”

Shaw stared down at the folder for a moment, before glancing up and watching Carter’s retreating form.

The folder was just as thin as the one Hersh had put together, but it still felt heavy in her hands, like it contained the most vital information Shaw would ever need to know. Shaw wanted to open it right then and there, but she forced herself not to. Instead she gathered up her gun, listening to the gunfire from the other lanes. The pungent smell of nitroglycerin from all that firing filled her nose. A scent that usually filled her with anticipation on most days that now seemed cloying. Nausea seemed to swell up inside her and Shaw walked quickly towards the exit, desperate for some air.

Waiting until she was home, in the safety of her apartment where no one could see her, would be the sensible thing to do. But Shaw couldn’t wait and opened the folder as soon as she had gotten into her car, slamming the door shut behind her.

It was the police report from the night of Groves’ attempted shooting. Carter had been right, it was vague and as if bits of it were missing. There was also Sam’s brief statement, the officer who had arrived at the scene first describing in his report that the victim had seemed shaken but otherwise fine. Try as she might, Shaw couldn’t place Sam with the helpless, defenceless woman the report described.

It told her nothing other than that HR were doing their best to make sure this case stayed under the rug, and Shaw tossed the folder into the passenger seat in annoyance.

It wasn’t her case, she told herself again and again and still couldn’t stop the fire that swelled within her gut, like it wanted to make her explode. Shaw ignored it and forced herself to think about something else, anything other than Sam and that kiss and how they still didn’t have a clue about who was trying to kill her.

Concentrating on driving seemed to help, even if Shaw was more aggressive than usual. And by the time she got home, Shaw was desperate for that drink, finding a near empty bottle of scotch and drinking it straight from the bottle as she kicked off her shoes and dumped the folder and her gun on the coffee table.

She wanted to get drunk and forget about everything but she didn’t have enough booze for that. She hadn’t restocked her kitchen properly since coming home, part of her hoping that Hersh would find her a new job quickly that would help her get out of her own head. But that hadn’t happened and now she wished she hadn’t been so optimistic. She could really have done with more beer or something, she thought as she drained the rest of the bottle dry.

It was later than Shaw had expected, dark outside despite the glow of the city lights, but still earlier than Shaw would usually go to bed. Yet she knew what awaited her in her dreams and part of Shaw just wanted to give in to it, let her dream self do what the real, living and breathing version of herself couldn’t do.

Shaw knew it was ridiculous, this whole thing, yet she found herself getting ready for bed anyway and was more than a little annoyed when her cell phone rang before she could get under the covers.She thought about ignoring it, letting it ring out, but she quickly snatched it up anyway in case it was a call from Hersh about a new job.

It wasn’t Hersh.

It was Cole, his voice tinged with fear and breathing heavily as if he had just finished a two hour workout.

“What’s wrong?” Shaw said immediately, keeping her voice calm. She knew all about Cole’s tendency to panic.

“I think someone’s after us,” Cole said hurriedly.

Shaw didn’t need to ask what “us” he was referring to. She only had one thought on her mind then, one that sent the burning aflame and left Shaw feeling drained and shaky, like she was about to be sick.

_Sam,_ she thought and wondered if this was what panic felt like.


	9. Chapter 9

Shaw tried to keep Cole talking, but she could tell that he was panicking and she had half a mind to snap at him and tell him to give Sam the phone. And it wasn't just because she wanted to hear Sam's voice, be reassured that she was, in fact, okay. But also because she thought Sam would be calmer at explaining the situation than Cole.

The line suddenly went dead, cutting Cole off mid-sentence. Shaw felt her insides turn to ice and pressed her foot down harder on the accelerator. She was almost there, but with communications cut she worried she wouldn't find them in time.

Shaw rolled the car to a stop at the last position Cole had said they'd been. There was no sign of either of them or HR, but Shaw didn't think they could have gotten far. She got out of the car, taking her gun and scanned the area. It was dark and the street was empty. She could hear the sound of car engines from a few blocks away, a stray cut mewling as it lurked behind a trash can, but nothing else.

Then she heard it. Rapid gunfire and someone shouting. Shaw moved towards it on instinct, desperately trying to decipher if the shout had been Cole or Sam. She didn't think so, but hurried her pace all the same, ducking down a long alleyway with very little light. She could see figures moving ahead of her and as she moved closer, she realised they were trapped in a dead end.

Cole’s eyes met hers, shining bright with relief. But Shaw's gaze moved past him, falling on Sam. She looked okay, Shaw thought, face etched with fear, but she looked okay.

Shaw saw a movement to her left; the service door to the building opening abruptly. Shaw turned towards it and so did Cole, but Shaw couldn't see whatever he was seeing, her view blocked by the now open door.

She saw Cole step in front of Sam though, push her down out of the way. She heard a single shot go off, ringing in her ears. She saw the bullet that was intended for Sam tear into his chest, watched as he fell to the ground and fired a shot off without looking. Her bullet pierced the door and Shaw moved round, gun trained and wasn't surprised to find a guy dressed in an NYPD uniform on the ground, bleeding from the neck where her bullet had hit. She quickly cleared the area and tucked her gun away, kneeling on the ground next to Cole.

Blood was pouring out of his chest in a relentless red wave and he looked like he was choking, struggling to breathe.

"Cole," said Shaw, pressing her hands to his chest and knowing it was futile. He had already lost too much blood. He tried to smile at her, but it came out more as a grimace. "Stay with me," said Shaw and didn't know if she was trying to comfort him or not. She knew there was nothing she could do. She had seen chest wounds like this before, so many times in the ER and she knew, from that experience, that he wasn't going to make it.

But Shaw had never given into the notion of giving up easily and she pressed her hands down firmer, willed him to keep breathing, and never took her eyes from his. She had never really looked in those eyes before, never really looked at _him_. He was just a co-worker, an asset that Shaw only valued because he could do his job competently. It wasn’t until then, as she was watching the light fade from his eyes, that she thought that he might actually be considered as a friend.

A friend that she had never appreciated or acknowledge and as he stilled beneath her hands, eyes slipping closed, never to open again, regret seemed to shove itself savagely into the pit of her stomach. She had never told him and now he would never know.

It took her a moment to remember how to suck air into her lungs and she forced herself to tear her gaze away from his lifeless body. Her eyes landed on Sam, hands shaking as she leant against the wall, eyes staring blankly at Cole. Shaw thought she might be in shock and knew they had to move now, before more of HR showed up. It was that thought, more than anything else that got Shaw climbing to her feet.

"We need to move," she said, grabbing Sam by the wrist. Blood smeared onto her skin from Shaw's hand and she stared at it, lost in the thought that it had been Cole's, that he was dead because she hadn't gotten here in time.

That is was her fault.

"Go where?" Sam asked, her voice cutting into Shaw.

Shaw forced herself to swallow, to breathe, and gripped Sam’s arm tighter, pushing her forwards.

“Move,” she said curtly, straining her senses for any sign of HR as she led Sam towards the end of the alleyway. The way looked clear and Shaw hoped they would be able to make it back to her car without running into anyone.

They weren’t so lucky.

Shaw turned the corner and saw a figure to her left; a man dressed in a nice suit, possibly HR, if the gun in his hand was any judge. Shaw shoved Sam behind her and fired off a few rounds. They missed and the man ducked for cover. When he didn’t return fire, Shaw wondered if she had clipped him after all, but she didn’t hang around long enough to find out, shoving Sam ahead of her and out onto a busy street.

“Shouldn’t we hide?” Sam asked, her voice shaking slightly. “Get out of the street?”

“Trust me,” said Shaw, pulling her cell out and dialling a familiar number, “you want to get lost in a crowd right now.”

Sam didn’t look convinced and Shaw gestured for her to keep moving, eyes scanning the street for signs of dirty cops. The line picked up and Shaw switched to her earpiece, keeping one hand on Sam and the other holding on tightly to her gun, keeping it concealed so as not to draw them any unwanted attention.

“Two calls in one day?” said Carter, sounding surprised with a hint of smugness.

“I shot a cop,” Shaw blurted, glancing behind her and thought a guy some ways down the street in a cheap looking leather jacket might be tailing them, but couldn’t be sure. “I think he was HR. Cole’s dead.”

“Shaw, slow down,” said Carter and any playfulness that might have been in her voice when she first answered the call was long gone. “Where are you?”

Shaw hesitated. She trusted Carter – she wouldn’t be calling if she didn’t – but when she glanced at Sam who shot her a curious look, she found herself wary of giving their location; suddenly feeling like someone else was listening into their conversation.

“I’m with Groves,” was all she said and was relieved when Carter didn’t push on the subject. “I think HR are still trying to follow. I could do with some interference.”

“Shaw,” said Carter and it came out like a warning, like she was worried but unsure how to convey it. “If you shot one of HR, they won’t stop until they find you.”

“I know,” said Shaw, wondering if Carter knew, if she could read between the lines and see what Shaw wasn’t saying. That the cop was dead and so would Shaw be when the rest of HR found her.

“You need to lie low,” said Carter and Shaw thought she could hear the sound of keys clinking.

“I know a place,” said Shaw, hanging up and hailing a cab. She pushed Sam into the backseat and followed her in, telling the cabbie to drive without giving him an address.

“Who was that?” Sam asked quietly. She was staring at the gun, peeking out from underneath Shaw’s jacket.

Shaw tucked it away and thought about ignoring her. She didn’t know if she could keep speaking. She wasn’t sure how she had managed this far. She dropped her gaze down to her hands, still stained with Cole’s blood and swallowed thickly.

“A friend,” Shaw muttered, looking out the window and telling the driver to stop. She handed him over a fifty dollar bill and told him an address he was to continue driving to. “If anyone asks,” said Shaw, “you tell them that’s where you dropped us off.”

He stared blankly at Shaw for a moment until she handed him another fifty. Then he nodded and Shaw gestured for Sam to get out of the cab.

“What are we doing?” Sam asked.

“Be quiet,” Shaw ordered and took hold of her arm once again, leading her down the steps to a subway station, constantly checking behind her for any signs of a tail. She couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched and it left her feeling unsettled, made her grip Sam’s arm all the more tightly. She worried about leaving a bruise, but Sam didn’t seem all that bothered and continued to stare blankly ahead as Shaw got them onto a train, not caring about where it was going. Sam’s passive state should have been worrying, but Shaw couldn’t allow herself to be concerned about that, not yet. She had to get her to safety first. Somewhere safe where HR wouldn’t find them.

They took three more trains just to be safe, before they finally got off at a stop and Shaw led Sam up the steps and out onto the street. She still gripped the gun tightly in her hand, just under her jacket, ready to pull out if needed. Still that feeling of being watched followed her, but she was confident that they must have lost any possible tail ages ago.

Shaw paused outside a crummy hotel and Sam shot her a sceptical look.

“Come on,” said Shaw, nudging her inside, “it’s not that bad.”

It certainly wasn’t up to Sam’s usually standards, but Shaw had used this place before, new it was clean and despite its exterior appearance, was actually fairly nice looking inside.

Plus they took cash and didn’t require ID. When you had an army of dirty cops after you, that was a _very_ good thing.

Shaw paid for the room, frowning at her rapidly depleting cash supply and led Sam up the stairs once she had taken the key from the receptionist. Sam said nothing as Shaw left her hovering in the doorway so she could clear the room. It was a force of habit really. She didn’t really expect HR to be hiding under the bed, but it was that feeling again that she could shake, like someone had eyes on her.

Satisfied that the room was empty apart from them, Shaw gestured for Sam to come inside and locked the door, putting a chair under the handle for good measure. She wondered if she was being overly paranoid or just careful and thought about asking Cole before she remembered that he was dead.

How could she forget? His blood was still covering her hands, dried and flaking.

Shaw excused herself to go wash it off in the bathroom, staring blankly as the water from the tap turned red, swirling away down the plug hole. The last remnants of Cole’s life so easily washed away. It didn’t feel right somehow, like he deserved better and she tried not to think about how she had just left him there, dead in some stinking alleyway, alone save for the dead cop three feet away from him.

She wondered if he would get blamed for it. If HR would stain his name, just like the ground was stained with his blood. Shaw forced herself not to think about it, splashing cold water on her face. It nipped at her skin, reminding her she was still alive, even if it just was for the briefest of moments.

 When she left the bathroom, she found Sam staring absently out of the window, arms crossed and held tightly against her body, like she was trying to comfort herself. Shaw hurried over. “You should stay away from those,” Shaw warned, closing the curtains tightly.

“Snipers again?” Sam joked, but Shaw could tell the lightness in her voice was a lie.

“Are you okay?” Shaw asked, realising for the first time that she had never asked, that she had just dragged Sam off to safety, heedless of any injuries.

Sam nodded. “Are _you_ okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be,” Shaw said, her forehead creasing into a frown. “No one is trying to kill me.” Well, _not yet_ , she thought and wondered how long it would take HR to figure out it had been her gun that had killed that cop.

“Your friend just died,” said Sam. “In front of you.”

Shaw shrugged and looked away, finding it difficult to breathe again. She sucked air into her lungs and it sounded so shaky to her ears, like it wasn’t her that was breathing, but someone else. Someone broken.

Sam’s fingertips touched her jaw and Shaw flinched, not liking the look in Sam’s eyes when she forced Shaw to look at her. It was too much like pity and Shaw didn’t want it. Shaw tried to shrug her off, but Sam only moved closer, forcing their lips together. She felt familiar and soft, tasted sweet and addictive and Shaw pushed her away, because it was all too much. Too stifling.

“What are you doing?”

“I think you need to feel something,” said Sam, her hands still cupping Shaw’s cheeks.

Shaw watched her carefully and was surprised to find all the fear had gone from Sam’s eyes, just a determined look left in its place. Shaw grabbed onto her wrists and forced her arms down to the side. Her hand slid down into Sam’s left and she felt the wedding ring on her finger, cool and smooth, but it still felt to Shaw like it was burning her skin.

“You’re married,” Shaw pointed out, feeling stupid saying it, like she was stating the obvious. But she felt like Sam needed the reminder. Because Shaw wasn’t sure how much of her own resolve she had left.

Sam snorted, wheezy and humourless. “You don’t strike me as the type of person who would care about that sort of thing.”

Saying nothing, Shaw swallowed and looked away, staring at the floor and thinking of her parents. When her father was alive, when he was home on leave, sometimes little Sameen would sit on the stairs or hide behind the couch or swallow herself amongst the shadows of the doorway and watch as he worshipped her mother (there was no other word to describe it – but devoted might work too) and in turn her mother had done the same for him.

But Sameen had always watched indifferently, more out of abstract fascination than anything else. And as she got older, after her father died and the life seeped out of her mother like puss oozes from an infected wound, Sameen began to understand just what they had meant to each other, what their _marriage_ had meant to each other.

Looking at Sam and her husband, Shaw couldn’t see it. She couldn’t see that devotion. All she saw was hate and disdain.

“Besides,” Sam added, pulling Shaw out of her thoughts. “In case you hadn’t noticed, it isn’t exactly a happy one.” Shaw had noticed and remembered, unwilling, the hand that had smacked Sam hard across the face, leaving her lip bleeding and cracked. “It’s a marriage of convenience,” Sam continued.

“Convenient for who?” Shaw snapped and Sam looked away. A look flashed across her face that Shaw couldn’t interpret, too quick for her to get a proper look.

Shaw couldn’t fathom why it bothered her so much. Why she cared about Sam and her marriage, like it should be something treasured and protected. It wasn’t hers to protect, and she certainly felt no sympathy for Greer, who could burn in hell for all Shaw cared.

But it bothered her. A burning wave in her stomach, like bad indigestion, eating away at her every time she thought about that first kiss in the bathroom, Sam’s lips metallic with blood.

She thought about her parents and how happy they had been. She thought about how unhappy Sam looked every day that Shaw had known her and wondered what she was trying to prove, who she was proving it to.

The only time that Shaw thought she had ever seen Sam happy, or at least less subdued, was when she was messing with Shaw’s head, flirting like she didn’t have a ring on her finger.

Without knowing why, that thought seemed to make what she did next easier.

Shaw pressed her lips roughly against Sam’s, pushing her backwards until her back slammed against the wall. Sam gasped and Shaw couldn’t tell if it was out of surprise or pain. Sam’s lips felt warm and soft, reminding Shaw that she was real, that she was still breathing. Still _alive._

She tried not to think about Cole, but all she could picture was the blood pouring out of his chest. And all she could think was _thank God it wasn’t Sam_  and hated herself for it.

Pulling back, Shaw looked in Sam’s eyes and thought she could see desire there, but she couldn’t be sure. “I’m not going to be gentle,” she warned.

“I never expected you to be,” Sam said, eyes locked, almost daring Shaw to continue. It was the permission Shaw had been waiting for and she forced their lips together once again, hands exploring Sam’s body roughly. She dug her fingernails in, scratched thin pink lines across Sam’s pale skin, bit her way across Sam’s jaw and across to her neck as one hand found its way under Sam’s shirt, kneading at her breast.

Sam moaned and Shaw felt her own arousal spark as she tightened her grip, knew that she was probably going to leave a bruise and didn’t care.

There was anger there too. Bubbling away beneath the surface and Shaw wondered how easy it would be to let it take over and if it did, would she be able to gain control over it again?

She didn’t think so. But she also thought Sam wouldn’t mind, that she would be willing to take that angry edge. That she _wanted_ it. It was unsettling to Shaw, unused to having a partner so willing to receive what Shaw usually wanted for herself.

Unwilling, she thought of Carter then. Carter who had tried so hard to give Shaw what she needed, but it was never quite enough. And as she undid Sam’s fly with one hand, pulled her pants down roughly and found Sam’s centre warm and ready, Shaw thought that Sam might be able to. That she might have finally found someone just as depraved as her.

Sam urged her on with her teeth and her sharp fingernails, boring into the small of Shaw’s back and pulling her closer. She bit down hard on Shaw’s neck and Shaw curled a finger inside of her in response, relishing in the gasp the escaped between Sam’s lips, lighter than air. Sam’s cheeks had turned pink, a thin sheet of sweat lining her forehead, breathless, her eyes fluttering. Shaw had never seen her so uncomposed and she smirked, feeling smug for once and finally in control of this _thing_ between them that had started the first time they had met.

A scowl creased Sam’s features when she noticed the smirk on Shaw’s face and Shaw wondered what it must look like, if it carried the weight of Cole’s death. If it looked like the grimace on his face as he had tried to smile at her in reassurance.

The smile slipped from Shaw’s face, her fingers slowed and Sam looked at her with a curiosity that Shaw couldn’t ignore, couldn’t mistake the pity as something else.

“Shut up,” Shaw growled when Sam opened her mouth to say something, and she put her hand over Sam’s throat, slamming her head back against the wall. Something flashed in her eyes then and for a moment, Shaw wondered if she had read this all wrong and worried that Sam was about to run from her scared.

But she didn’t push Shaw away or look at her with accusing eyes. Instead, she grabbed Shaw by the back of the head, pulling her close and kissing her hungrily, her other hand clamping around Shaw’s wrist, prompting her into moving again.

Sam moaned and the sound of it sent that anger burning through Shaw’s veins. She squeezed her fingers tighter around Sam’s throat, heard a gasp as she struggle to get air in her lungs, watched her face turn red with the effort and felt her muscles clench around her hand as Shaw moved her fingers in deeper, palm brushing across her clit. Shaw didn’t know if it was that, or the lack of air, making darkness cloud at her eyes, that brought her close to orgasm. Shaw’s own arousal throbbed uncomfortably, demanding attention as she watched Sam coming with a breathless cry on her lips.

Shaw let go of her throat, but kept her fingers moving, building up a second orgasm that seemed to suck all the energy out of Sam. She leant her head forward, teeth nibbling at Shaw’s neck as she came quietly this time. Shaw stilled, suppressing the shiver induced by the trail of Sam’s tongue up her neck and towards her earlobe.

“Tell me what you need,” Sam muttered into her ear.

Shaw pulled back slightly, eyes on the red marks on Sam’s neck, wondering if they would leave a bruise. She hoped they would.

“Pain,” she said, eyes locking with Sam’s. “There’s a knife in my left boot.”

Sam nodded and pushed Shaw backwards until the back of her legs hit the edge of the bed. Shaw sat down, the mattress feeling too soft and lumpy underneath her, and she watched as Sam undid her boot laces, pulling her boots off before removing the combat knife from its sheave.

Light from the dim bedside lamp glinted off it, reflecting in Sam’s eyes like a feral fire as she pressed the sharp tip to her pointer finger hard enough to pierce the skin, drawing blood.

Swallowing thickly, Shaw watched as Sam sucked the blood from her finger, eyes never leaving Shaw’s face.

“Take your clothes off,” Sam ordered.

Shaw glared. “You first.”

Sam smirked and placed the knife on the bedside table with care, like it was some hot explosive about to go off at the slightest of bumps.

Shaw licked her lips, watching as Sam slowly unbuttoned her blouse, a smirk on her face that made Shaw want to lean over and tear the blouse open, make buttons fly everywhere. It felt like every muscle in her body had gone tense with anticipation, her breathing becoming more erratic as Sam slipped the blouse from her shoulders and tossed it onto the floor. Next she took off her bra and Shaw watched as her nipples hardened in the cold hotel room air.

She thought about that day in the department store when they had first met, Shaw following her around like a grumpy lost puppy, weighed down by numerous shopping bags. Even then there had been something. Shaw wasn’t sure what. An attraction maybe, even though Sam Groves wasn’t Shaw’s normal type.

Maybe that was why this felt so different.

Because it _was_ different.

Shaw just couldn’t explain how.

Sam slipped her still unzipped pants down her hips.  She was slow about it, almost like she was teasing. Shaw felt her anger flare again, for the briefest of moments, something hot and itching to get out. It seemed to take forever for those pants to finally come off, then her underwear.

Standing naked before her with a smirk on her face, Shaw could no longer see the bored, lonely housewife.  She liked this Sam better, she thought, and tried not to look at the ring on her finger, a heavy reminder of what they were doing. Sam pushed herself in between Shaw’s legs, hands at the sides of Shaw’s neck as she kissed her hard. Shaw groaned when Sam bit down on her bottom lip, pulling away so she could unzip Shaw’s hoodie and take it off. Shaw let her, biting her lip to suppress the groan that wanted to escape every time Sam’s fingers brushed against her skin.

Clothes tossed haphazardly on the floor and naked, Sam pushed her down on the bed and straddled her waist, kissing her way down Shaw’s chest before clamping her mouth around a taut nipple and biting down hard. Shaw groaned, but it wasn’t enough. She needed more. She needed to _bleed._

As if sensing it, Sam stopped what she was doing, sitting up and smirking down at Shaw as she stretched one arm over to snatch up the knife from the bedside table. Shaw swallowed thickly as Sam pressed it down lightly on the stretch of skin between her breasts. She kept it there for a moment, not digging in hard enough to pierce the skin and Shaw almost growled with impatience, her hand coming up to clasp around the hand that held the knife, urging her to use more pressure.

Sam complied, drawing a thin line with the blade down Shaw’s chest. Shaw hissed, knowing there was blood welling up and felt her arousal spark when Sam ducked her head to lick the red trail away with her tongue.

Shaw’s hips bucked involuntary, demanding friction, but she grabbed roughly onto Sam’s hair and pulled her head up, crashing their lips together. Once again she could taste blood on Sam’s lips, but this time it was her own and to Shaw that seemed more arousing than anything.

“Do you need more?” Sam mumbled into her mouth.

Shaw nodded, the sting on her chest not enough to make her forget the look in Cole’s eyes as he died. Sam moved then, slashing the knife quickly across Shaw’s stomach. The cut was deeper this time and Shaw hissed. This was more than a sting, like fire burning across her skin. For a moment she worried Sam had cut too deep, but she seemed unconcerned as she moved down Shaw’s body, trailing light kisses and harsh bites across Shaw’s skin until she reached her thighs.

Teeth sunk into her inner thigh, hard and sharp, sending a hot wave of arousal through her that seemed to stop and build up, waiting to explode. Shaw wasn't sure how much longer she could take it and Sam seemed to be fully aware of it, smirking up at Shaw, still clutching the knife tightly.

When Sam’s tongue found her centre, hot and wet, a moan escaped Shaw’s mouth and she forgot everything else, only aware of the sting of her cuts and the burning pleasure of Sam’s tongue circling her clit.

She gripped the bed sheets, tight enough to turn her knuckles white, as her orgasm began to build. But it wasn’t enough. Shaw knew she was going to need more to come and she gripped Sam’s hair tightly in her fist, knew she was pulling hard enough to hurt.

Sam sucked hard on her clit at the same time as she slashed the knife along Shaw's thigh. Shaw only tightened her hold on Sam’s hair as she rode out her orgasm, refusing to make a sound.

Sam crawled up the length of Shaw's body, trailing light kisses before tossing the knife on the bedside table and lying on her side next to Shaw. Shaw could feel Sam's eyes on her as she struggled to control her breathing. She could feel the sweat cooling on her skin and she suppressed a shiver, focusing on the burn of her cuts. Shaw’s muscles felt more relaxed than ever and she didn’t know if it was because she had finally got some action after weeks sitting around bored out of her mind or if it was because of the really good sex. Or maybe it was both.

“Sameen,” Shaw said breathlessly.

“What?” asked Sam, frowning down at her.

“That’s my first name,” said Shaw flatly, staring straight at the ceiling.

“Oh,” said Sam and Shaw could hear the grin in her voice. “Sameen,” she said, the name rolling about her mouth. Shaw found she didn’t mind the sound of it, but she glared at Sam all the same when she said it again, this time slowly and dragging it out as if she were trying it out all the different ways she could make it sound.

The scowl never left Shaw’s face, not even when Sam stopped saying her name long enough to start nuzzling her neck.

“Do you need me to get you a towel or something for those?” Sam asked, lifting her hand to skim her finger along Shaw’s cuts. Shaw winced and caught her wrist, preventing her from going any further.

“No,” she said. “They’ve stopped bleeding. It’s fine.”

Sam shrugged like she wasn’t convinced, but leaned back into the pillows, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand.

“You should get some sleep,” Shaw suggested, sitting up and swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. She could feel Sam’s eyes on her and tried to ignore it as she pulled her clothes back on.

“Going somewhere?” Sam asked.

Shaw found her gun in amongst her clothes and tucked it into the small of her back once she was dressed.

“Need to be prepared for a quick getaway,” she muttered.

“So why aren’t you telling me to get dressed?” Sam asked. There was a hint of a smile to her voice, but also something reserved too, almost cautious. Shaw turned to face her, not liking the look on her face. “Or do you just like having me naked?” Sam joked, but Shaw could tell her heart wasn’t really in it.

“I don’t do this sort of thing,” said Shaw and thought of Carter. She had done this sort of thing with Carter. Sticking around and breaking her no more than three nights rule.

“Adultery?” Sam asked and Shaw scowled. It withered into a frown as she watched Sam’s fingers fiddle absently with the hem of her hoodie sleeve.

“You should get some sleep,” Shaw said again when Sam yawned and kept the frown on her face until Sam nodded and shifted into a more comfortable position on the bed, pulling the sheet tightly around her.

“Where are you going?” she mumbled when Shaw stood up.

“The chair,” Shaw said, gesturing vaguely in that direction. Sam peeked her eyes open only to roll them at her and tugged on Shaw’s wrist until she was back on the bed.

“You can protect me better from here,” she said.

Shaw swallowed and yet found herself removing the gun from the small of her back and tucking it safely under her pillow. She didn’t allow herself to relax until she heard Sam’s breathing become shallow and knew that she had fallen asleep.


End file.
